Change with time
by DanaBlood
Summary: Angry at Sasuke for underestimating her, Sakura comes up with a plan to prove how much she's changed, but her plan in slowly, but surely falling apart as she's stuck with him on a long mission along with their other team mate, Naruto, a mission involving wizards. Will she prove her worth? Or will she just snap and punch him into next Thursday? Pairings: Sasusaku, Dramione.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer: I own neither Naruto nor Harry Potter. Thanks my new Beta Lord Voldything394. **_

**Prologue**

„Sakura-chan! Wait up!" Naruto Uzumaki ran as fast as he could trying to catch up with his team mate and friend. He had known Sakura Haruno since they were eight years old, now they were 24. Despite how time seemed to pass by, and no matter how much one could hope, the same thoughts were swarming through their minds as at that age. Sasuke Uchiha, their other team mate who had defected from Konohagakure 11 years ago still appeared to be a focus of theirs, but now for different reasons. He had returned to Konoha after the fight against Madara Uchiha during the Fourth Shinobi World War alongside Naruto, his best friend. Anyways, returning to that matter at hand, the Uchiha prodigy had just pissed off Sakura again.

"No, Naruto! I thought he'd changed, for the better or the worst, it wouldn't have mattered because I would have known how to act, it would have been fine either way, yet nothing's changed at all! He is the same arrogant obstinate idiot that he was when we were 13, just older-looking and I have had it! He can't pretend to know what we've gone through or how we have or have not evolved! He doesn't know us anymore and he's not even trying to! Stop protecting him!" she yelled. Although she wasn't quite running, she might as well have been with the speed at which she was walking, Naruto had troubles keeping up.

"But Sakura-chaaan!" He whined despite being aware of the truth of her statement. He himself had wanted to punch Sasuke's daylight's out because of what he'd said.

"_You are the same fan-girling weak useless person you were before I left, Sakura. With the same optimistic, rainbows and happiness, view on life, but life is not like that. You might not know that because you've never lost someone, but don't pretend to know me!" _

Naruto shook his head, wishing the harsh words away. True Sakura hadn't lost her family at such a young age as he or Sasuke had, but that did not mean she hadn't been through painful experiences. She was a medic and that by itself dictated that she saw people die every day during those three years of war and even now, during peace. Naruto looked up to see his fiend disappear behind the corner and decided to not bother chasing after her, she needed to cool off first before he's even attempt to reconcile the two. Sasuke had been lucky, he mused, Sakura had been too affected by his words to show him just how much stronger she was now and land him an indefinite stay in the hospital. Then again, maybe she should have done so, it would have been better for them all.

"The god-damn, stubborn, stupid, arrogant, sexy idiot with his Adonis-like body and deep, easy-to-fall-into-eyes, Uchiha Sasuke!" she half-cried, half-screamed, berating herself for still loving him. Why should she, he was nothing more than an asshole whose ego had reached never-before-seen heights, but whom she was unfortunately and irrevocably in love with. She was still walking but slower now, letting the anger and righteousness pass through her in waves. "Who does he think he is, or me for that matter!? I am the Hokage's apprentice, a world renown medic, a war hero even, a … girl that still has the same pointless crush on him ..." she trailed off. She was arguing with herself and she was losing! How was that even possible!

"Damn it all to hell!" she sat on a bench, face hidden in her hands, not crying, but close to tears. She sat there, pondering the right course of action, thinking that perhaps she should go back and give him a piece of her mind. He would definitely deserve it! Or maybe act like nothing had affected her, but it was already too late for that. Then, as she was beginning to get frustrated, the answer came to her; She would wait for an opportunity to arise to show him how she'd changed, but until that time she would ignore him... maybe ignore wasn't quite the word, she would be as nonchalant as she could be, not letting anything get to her. Calm and collected, just as he was. She grinned, pleased with herself. "Perfect plan! Shannaro!

_One Day Later_

Not that perfect a plan! Sakura realized with horror and annoyance that fate must hate her as, everywhere she went, the Uchiha seemed to be waiting, always there to remind her of yesterday's argument. It was as if by some divine intervention, or not if she thought it through, that the bastard knew where she would be before she even decided and waited there just to spite her and ruin her plan. He also never said anything which only demoralized her more. She cursed the day she met Sasuke Uchiha. He was the worst possible love choice for her, yet she wanted none other! Worst part of the whole ordeal: he had slithered his way under her skin and no matter how she tried to cut him out she couldn't, she could extirpate the tumor that was Sasuke.

"Sakura!" she heard and snapped out of her daydream to see who had called her name. She turned toward the owner of the voice and was surprised to see Kotetsu standing before her. This was supposed to be her day off so why was he here?

"Yes Kotetsu-san, is there something the matter?" she was polite but any idiot could guess it was by far forced, easily discerned by the fake tone of her voice.

"Tsunade-sama requested your teams' presence in her office in ten." he stated and she was compelled to make a hole in the ground. "I'm, sorry for ruining your day off, Sakura..." he offered and it seemed enough to pacify the 24 year old.

"Ugh! What now?!" she thought turning around only to be scared half to death by Sasuke's closeness to her. He was barely 5 inches from her and thus she had jumped in fright. He took no notice of this as he nodded, indicating he had heard everything that was said, and then jumped to one of the rooftops, not bothering to wait for her as well, heading toward Naruto's house . Sakura huffed in indignation and chose to head to the opposite direction, toward the Hokage Tower. If the moron wanted to go alone, fine! She'd just wait for the two idiots with her Shishou. "Asshole" grumbled inner Sakura and outer Sakura couldn't help but think she'd never heard a more accurate description of the Uchiha in her life. "God, I hope the mission is short, or at least I get to punch something hard!" she thought to herself, shaking her head.

"Tsunade-shishou? You called?" she bowed as she entered the office before smiling brightly at her mentor who was reading through a rather long scroll. Tsunade gave no indication of answering except a curt nod. Sakura leaned against a wall and prepared to wait for her team mates. Thankfully they were there not 5 minutes later, Naruto's loud voice having been heard from several miles. Sakura shook her head bemused by the blond Kyuubi container, he'd never change.

"Naruto, shut up!" ordered Tsunade and the blond was just about to scream something else when Sakura gave him a punch.

"Good. Now the reason I have called you here. I have received this scroll from an old friend of the Thirds asking for our help. Listen carefully and say nothing." she sent a look to the blond as she finished the sentence. "It might sound odd, but I assure you it is true. The man that has ordered this mission is named Albus Dumbledore and he is a wizard."

"What?! HAHAHA!" Naruto burst out. He was laughing so hard he was clutching his sides and gasping for air, Sakura was just staring shocked, unsure whether this was a prank or a serious matter, even Sasuke had been surprised by the explanation.

"Shut up brat! Let me finish! As I mentioned, this Albus is a wizard, however the more important fact is where he is from. It would appear that our world has been, for a very long time, strongly connected to theirs, but as wars began plaguing both worlds, it was decided to create a barrier between them. Our world, the Ninja world, has, since then, become completely independent from the Wizarding one, However the Wizarding world has had several problems since the separation. People without magic had revolted as the wizards grew stronger, thus the world once again divided. The muggles, people of no magical knowledge, are now not aware of the wizards. While there had been a hard war being waged several years ago in the Wizarding world it had supposedly ended, but the enemy has returned. Voldemort, as is his name, has once again risen to power and Dumbledore has asked for our assistance in the up-coming war. There is also the matter of protecting a boy by the name of Harry Potter who is said to be the one that will defeat this Voldemort. It is not your duty to protect him however do pay more attention to him. Your job will be to guard the castle and help Dumbledore in creating a counter force against Voldemort. All other information you will need is located in the files you will be given upon departure from Konoha. Understood?!"

"Yes!" they echoed in one voice.

"Uhm... Shishou? What will we be posing as?" Sakura was curious, as were the others.

"You will be posing as exactly what you are. Remember, you are ANBU now so try and act the part at least until you determine it safe to uncover your identity. Good luck!" Tsunade gave them until night fall to prepare and gather what they would need, to get their belongings and say goodbye to their friends.

"Oh, I wonder what will happen now?! And I asked for a short mission and look what I got?! A long guarding mission with exactly who I didn't want! Why? Why do you hate me so, God?!" Sakura couldn't help but lament. Naruto was alright, she was used to him, but she didn't want that asshole to be around every day for God-knows how long.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own either Naruto or Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish it. Special thanks to my Beta Lord Voldything394.**

**Chapter 1**

"Mum?! I'll be going now!" announced Hermione as she leaned to give her father a kiss on the cheek and her mother a hug when the woman finally emerged from the kitchen. Hermione Granger took a look in the mirror, smoothed her clothes and tied her long unruly hair into a high ponytail. She then gathered a hand full of Floo powder before throwing it into the fireplace and off she went. The Weasleys were all waiting for her, plus the faster she got there the less time before she saw Harry again. After the fight at the Department of Mysteries from the end of last year and what with Sirius' death, Harry must be feeling under the weather. Not to mention that from what she's read, there have been some changes in the Ministry of Magic. Apparently Fudge has been replaced by one Rufus Scrimgeour in the light of the latest happening meaning Voldemort's resurrection finally acknowledged.

As Hermione was submerged in her thoughts she had already arrived at the Burrow and Mrs Weasley had already enveloped her in a warm, bone-crushing hug. She saw Ron's face seconds before Ginny came barreling through the room, mumbling something that resembled "Damn blonde French bimbo" but she couldn't be sure. "Uhm... Mrs Weasley, I can't breathe..." she tried to say but it got out sounding smothered, nevertheless the ginger woman let her go and she finally let go of her luggage. Fred then entered the room, no doubt with a new invention he and George had developed for their new joke shop. However the other half of the two pranksters was nowhere to be seen, odd since they never went anywhere alone.

"'Mione!" she heard Ron and she had to fight hard to not smack him for that horrendous nickname which she had more than once forbidden him to use. She smiled though when her she saw Ginny do the exactly what she had been thinking about.

"Hermione, have you heard?" the only daughter of the Weasley family asked as she pulled the newcomer after her by the arm towards her room. Hermione shook her head, but she got no chance of actually answering before Ginny closed the door and sat on the bed, looking impatient, she wanted Hermione to sit as well before she revealed the secret. Not wanting to be on the wrong side of the ginger, the brown haired girl sat calmly and waited for the tale to begin.

"Bill came back, but he didn't come back alone... he came here claiming to want to marry..." She trailed off, leaving a dramatic break before she spoke the name she seemed to be dreading. "Phlegm!" Ginny exclaimed and Hermione burst out laughing.

"What?! Who?"

"Fleur Delacour. She and Bill have been going out for a year now and they decided to get engaged. They're getting married next year. Mum can't stand her and with good reason too, though I reckon Ron doesn't mind one bit." Hermione nodded as she did in fact remember the blonde woman Ginny was talking about. The Beauxbatons champion in the Triwizard Tournament. Although Hermione hadn't met the French half-Veela before she had made a first impression during her fourth year, two years ago, and it hadn't been that good. Not that she had anything against Fleur; it was just the fact that she didn't seem all that... bright.

"I see... what else has been..." but she was cut off before she could say anything by the bedroom door opening to reveal … "Tonks?" Hermione whispered confused at the Metamophmagus who was looking as unlike herself as possible. She seemed off somehow, and Hermione had an idea why... Sirius. It was obvious that Tonks blamed herself for her cousin's death, though she really shouldn't.

"Hey, Hermione..." she tried to smile at the young girl but it appeared as fake and forced as it was meant to be. She wasn't in any position to smile and Hermione understood that. She got up and hugged the young Auror and felt her give in as her body began shaking, though no tears fell. "Thanks, Mione."

"No problem" she replied, maybe the nickname wasn't that bad after all.

"Finally back at Hogwarts!" sighed Ginny as both her and Hermione lay in their beds in their dormroom at the Wizarding school. The first night back at Hogwarts had been the same as it always was. Professor McGonagall had sorted the first years into their Houses, Professor Dumbledore had given his long speech, yet some things had been different. As with every year of theirs at Hogwarts they had a new DADA teacher. Despite Harry's trip with Dumbledore to see Horace Slughorn, the old man wasn't their new Defense teacher. Slughorn was their new Potions teacher while Snape finally got his wish and took Umbridge's old place. Ron had complained about this all throughout the dinner so he failed to notice the interesting factor in the speech the Headmaster gave or the lack of attention from Malfoy. Although Hermione wasn't in any way hoping for his insults, she had watched Malfoy during the feast and found the boy strange. He wasn't making fun of the first years, he wasn't paying attention to his bodyguards, he was avoiding Pug-faced Parkinson and he had a fear in the depths of his eyes. He looked sick and terrified...also what Dumbledore had said kept replaying in her mind. A group of guards... ninja's too... it seemed incredibly unrealistic. She only ever heard of ninja's in cartoons and films back home or in the writings of Ancient Japan... Tomorrow was going to be quite the adventure she thought... also she saw the way Harry had been looking at Malfoy, he'd seen him too ever since they followed him to Borgin and Burkes, only he hadn't seen what she had he saw the opposite, he was sure that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, what happened in the train hadn't helped matters either.

"Goodnight Ginny." she murmured at last and turned on the other side of the bed, letting her body relax. She was back at Hogwarts and she was with her friends, it would be alright... even with the threat of Voldemort above their heads.

""I don't know. It would be like Malfoy to make himself seem more important than he is ... but that's a big lie to tell..." Hermione argued with Ron's statement about Malfoy, it didn't seem right to make those things up.

""Exactly," said Harry, but he could not press the point, there were too many people string and listening in on their conversation to have it there.

"It's rude to point," said Ron, scaring off a first year, before grinning "I love being a sixth year. And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax." he sniggered, pleased with himself, however Hermione wasn't the least bit impressed.

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" said Hermione, as they set off down the corridor.

"Yeah, but not today," said Ron. "Today's going to be a real doss, I reckon." he added after not much thought. Hermione almost sent his way a glare, but she was unfortunately interrupted.

"Hold it!" she said, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees banned, hand it over," she told him sternly. The scowling boy handed over the snarling Frisbee, ducked under her arm, and took off after his friends. Ron waited for him to vanish, then tugged the Frisbee from Hermione's grip.

"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these." Hermione could only stare astonished at his lack of tact and maturity. Their conversation moved on to the next subject Care for Magical Creatures.

"But he can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures!" she said, looking distressed. "I mean, when has any of us expressed... you know... any enthusiasm?"

"That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'ya reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?" Neither Harry nor Hermione made any effort to answer for they all knew it would have been. There wasn't one person going to take the N.E.W.T which is why they avoided meeting Hagrid's eyes.

After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and as she was just about to shoot off to a first period Ancient Runes class when Professor Dumbledore appeared, accompanied by three others. It was then that Hermione remembered the guards he'd spoken about last night. She sat back down as the Great Hall suddenly grew very quiet, all were curious about these ninja's and what they could do.

_A day ago, Konoha_

"Naruto! Calm down already! This Dumbledore person won't be here until later tonight when we will meet him at the front gates, you know that!" Sakura yelled, impatient. The blonde jinchuuriki had been driving her up the wall with his incessant blabber and the Uchiha wasn't helping matters at all. She was almost at her wits end by the fact that the mission had been put off with a day, also the fact that they had no idea what they would do once they got to wherever they were going. She just hoped for today to go faster so she could finally prove her worth. The plan was far from finish she found as she took a relaxing bath yesterday night. This mission might be exactly what she needed to show the arrogant asshole Sasuke what she was made of.

"Okay!" Naruto screamed in her ear and she couldn't take it anymore. She turned to face him, her anger more than visible and just as she was about to punch his daylight out a gust of thick smoke engulfed the clearing and in the middle of it stood a man dressed in a long purple robe smiling at them.

"Good day, I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore..."

"WHAT?!" Naruto spoke what they were all thinking and the old man shook his head amused at his antics.

"I realize you were not expecting me this early but I assure you I have a very solid reason for being here at this time." the man dressed in weird attire told them and Sakura could read the wisdom in his words and stance.

"Excuse me, but are we to leave at once? If so we would like to be given the time to gather our luggage." Sasuke grunted in accordance to her words and Naruto wasted no time in going to his apartment to do exactly that, regardless of the man acceptance. The wizard smiled at them and nodded his head, then gave them a gesture indicating he would wait.

"We shall return in a few minutes." and both she and Sasuke move to get whatever they had fir the trip. True to her words Sakura was back not five minutes later, Sasuke soon joined her.

"Mr. Dumbledore … what do we have to do during this mission. We have, of course, read the files, we are aware you are the Headmaster of a Wizarding school and that you are one of Voldemort's most feared enemies and that you are protecting Harry Potter that is said to defeat him, however why are we required?" she used every ounce of respect she had, she had to appear professional since Sasuke was just useless in this endeavor and Naruto didn't have one bone of politeness in his body, Heaven knows how he got Hiashi Hyuuga to agree with him marrying Hinata-chan.

"Well, Miss..."

"Haruno Sakura, sir."

"Miss Sakura, it has come to my attention that Voldemort has managed to conscript one of my students into trying to kill me as punishment for his father's failures. I find it most unfortunate so I have decided in bringing him on our side, if I could say so. However it is highly possible that I will die, in fact I would wish for it to happen. This year is crucial so I need the help of skillful soldiers to protect the school from whatever it is the boy has in mind."

"I don't understand, why die? Also, you have made it seem like the boy has no choice of his own yet you fear what he might do. Why not just talk to him before his plan is put to action?" Sakura asked confused and glared at the Uchiha for saying nothing once again, not to mention the ruckus Naruto was making.

"Because I have to die at the end of this year and I need the time to put all the affairs in order. I need the boy to try his best and then, as soon as I am certain it will work, I will attempt to convince him."

Sakura nodded and then she saw the man walk away toward a very odd-looking structure. It resembled a toothbrush and so she frowned in confusion. "Place your hand on the object. It is called a Portkey; it will transport us to Hogsmeade, a small village near the school as we can't travel in and out of Hogwarts using magic. It is prevented by the wards." he explained and the three shinobi did as were told.

Off they went...

_Several hours later_

Standing before a mass of children with ages ranging between 11 and 18 was a new experience for all three ninja as was the undivided focus that was on them. All eyes were pointed at them as well as at Dumbledore and the feeling was unlike anything they'd had to face, it seemed stranger than the ovation at the end of the war. Sakura could already hear the whispers; "Who are they?" "Is her hair real?" and "What is going on?" She didn't like the scrutiny so she went on ignoring them. She turned to look at her team mates. Sasuke was his usual impassive self and Naruto was more serious than she'd ever seen him.

Her head snapped toward the old wizard as he cleared his throat and pointed the tip of his wand at the base of his neck. She realized it must be a spell the moment he did so, yet she only become certain when he spoke.

"Children! As I mentioned the last night, this year we will be host to a group of ninja guards and here they are. They are some of the most powerful soldiers of their World and I am lucky to have received the accord to have them here. They will be attending your classes in order to have an idea of what this school teaches. They will also be allowed to give detentions, deduct House points, their authority is similar to your Heads of House. Their main focus will, however, be the 6th and 7th years. That is all. You're free to attend your classes now."

Sakura was more than glad to get out of that room so when Dumbledore finished his speech, which she recognize as a daily occurrence by the reaction of the students, she was the first to follow him through the door and the hallways leading to their chambers.

"Bloody hell! What was that?!" yelled Ron as soon as the professor left the room only to be glared at by both Hermione and McGonagall, the former taking her books and going to her class at last.

Hermione was walking through the hallway toward the Ancient Runes classroom at the 6th floor. As she was going up the stairs, she saw out of the corner of her eyes the three ninja and Dumbledore escorting them, presumably to their chambers. She wondered what kind of people they were and if she'll see them often. She shook her head, clearing the thoughts away. She had better things to worry about after all, like what was Draco Malfoy up to and studying for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s. She had no time to dwell on this, not now. She opened the door to the class and sat in her usual place, took out her parchment and quill, waiting for Professor Babbling to come. Ninjas could wait until break when she knew Ron and Harry would be looking for her to talk. Sometimes her life was too odd, never a moment of peace, that's her life.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto nor the Harry Potter series.**_

_**Hope you like the chapter ^_^**_

_**Special thanks to my beta reader **Lord Voldything394_

**Chapter 2**

"This way, if you please." said the Headmaster of Hogwarts to the trio following closely behind him. All three young adults had had the distinct suggestion of keeping quiet for the duration of the speech and even a few minutes after that, however nothing had been able to stop Naruto Uzumaki, the future Hokage of Konohagakure, if this mission was a success that is, from opening his mouth as soon as Peeves came to insult his bright attire, though not from lack of trying in Sakura's case or lack of brute force from Sasuke. The old man then stopped, almost making the aforementioned blonde collide with his team mates as they come to a halt sharply.

"What the-"

"Hush, you." Sakura chastises the jinchuuriki, shaking her head at his disregard of respect toward their contractor.

"Do come inside" the man interrupts and moves out of the way for the three to enter the rather spacious room. It much resembled a living room or a parlour from the large love-seats to the small book case and the fireplace. They however are confused as they had been under the impression that this would be where they would sleep for the duration of their mission, and while the sofa's looked comfortable enough, they were not what was expected.

"This is your common room, much like the student houses have them, your bed chambers are through those doors. I am appalled to cut this time short, however it would seem as though you might not have as much time to accommodate to the chamber as one class you will have to attend is to begin in about 45 minutes. You all will attend this class. It is the Defence Against Dark Arts class of the 6th years Gryffindor's in which several of the people in your files are, including one Harry James Potter." he then waved his wand and requested a password to the portrait guarding their door. They didn't know for sure what to choose, but they eventually decided on "The Will Of Fire" as it seemed to fit well. Dumbledore took his leave soon afterwards with the promise of sending Professor Severus Snape, the one that would teach said class, to fetch them.

"Well I think we have enough time to unpack before we need to go so let's take advantage of that. Let's see the rooms and see who gets which." a sensible choice it appeared as neither of her friends protested at the idea. The so-called common room was in a beautiful combination of "fiery red and leafy green" as Naruto so eloquently put it and the bedrooms were also fantastic, they were as though they'd been created for them specifically and really, it would more than plausible.

"Hey, Sakura-chan!" asked Naruto as he burst into her room, a blur of orange and black, and sat on her bed. She almost started yelling at him to get lost when she noticed the rather odd look on his face. He was not only incredibly serious, but he also seemed worried.

"What's wrong ?"

"Are you and Sasuke still fighting?" he inquired and Sakura tried with all her might to keep the scowl off her face, yet she couldn't. Naruto got the clue, at least this time, and shook his head in disappointment.

"You two shouldn't do this here, ya know." he offered as advice and although she recognized it to be true, she couldn't forgive the Uchiha so easily, her plan said otherwise.

"I'll ignore him while we stay here, don't fret." and the conversation ended as she took some new clothes and went to take a shower. After her shower Sakura went to the common room, as it was almost time to leave for their first class. At least they weren't students this time.

"You guys ready?" she asked, smiling happily.

While the blonde launched into a speech about how excited he was and how curious, Sasuke said nothing, though it came as a surprise to no one. Not long before this, the man called Professor Snape came and guided them to his classroom. They were taken aback by the dark chamber, but took their places on the chairs prepared for them, nonetheless. Snape left the room, letting them stare as students rushed inside. They heard a girl speak, but could not make out what she was saying. The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures, none managed to spot the three ninjas.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention." Naruto tried to speak, but it seemed as though the idea would be catastrophic. Sakura shivered, 'odd man, Severus Snape, very imposing.'

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's, this went unnoticed by everyone except team 7 as they were trained to spot everything. They recognized the boy from the files and nodded to each other, but otherwise kept silent as Snape finally spoke.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe." the man spoke and Sakura wondered what had happened to require the change of a teacher every year.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Harry stared at Snape. Sasuke glared at the man. 'It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice?' yet he decided to wait and check if the other noticed the same. From the look on Sakura's face he wasn't the only one to notice the man's tone.

"Your defences," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of them as he swept past, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" (he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony) "feel the Dementor's Kiss" (a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall) "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" (a bloody mass upon ground).

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said a girl in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

"... You are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well-Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Hermione, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively (over in the corner, Malfoy sniggered), "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some, "his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry once more, "lack."

Harry knew Snape was thinking of their disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year. He refused to drop his gaze, but glowered at Snape until Snape looked away.

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word, a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor from any reasonable teacher, thought Harry bitterly, but which Snape ignored. He swept between them as they practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry and Ron struggling with the task.

Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Harry had his wand raised, waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.

"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while. "Here-let me show you-"

He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; all thought of non-verbal spells forgotten, he yelled, "Protego!"

His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing non-verbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly.

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor." The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively, Naruto outright laughed, but he was thankfully ignored.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Snape. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter... not even the Chosen One." After this was said, the students quickly left the classroom and Sakura could find it in her to blame them, also she was quite unsure about the professor. She had initially gotten the idea of the cold demeanour, yet here he almost seemed cruel. She thought it right to give the Potter boy a detention for his disrespectful behaviour, yet she couldn't understand why he'd attacked Harry in the first place. She shook her head waiting for the next group of students to come inside. She wasn't surprised to recognize the Slytherins as she'd paid a specific attention to the file on this house as well as on Draco Malfoy. From what she'd read and from Dumbledore's words she got the impression the boy had been left without a choice in either beliefs or simply how to lead his life, she felt sad for him. Sasuke tugged at her hand and pointed at Snape's woeful expression. She was perplexed to see it as mere moments before he was attacking a boy the same age as these were. She followed his line of sight and found it led to Malfoy, she did nothing except study the boy. He looked pained and fearful, and if what she'd heard was true , he had every reason to feel that way. She wanted to help him, so her mind began working faster, what could she do, what should she do? Her mind was made up as an idea made itself known, she would first approach him, ask for his cooperation, if that didn't work than she'd act from the shadows, she was, after all, a ninja. As the lesson resumed its course, all three guests were profoundly baffled by the change in attitude in the professor thus realizing how biased he was.

"That was brilliant, Harry!" chortled Ron, once they were safely on their way to break a short while later.

"You really shouldn't have said it," said Hermione, frowning at Ron. "What made you?"

"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry. "I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn't he use another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defence? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff-"

"Well," said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like you."

"Like me?"

"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts-well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"

Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth memorizing as The Standard Book of Spells that he did not argue.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.

"For you," panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend-"

But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.

_Dear Harry,_

_I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops._

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" said Ron, who had read the message over Harry's shoulder and was looking perplexed.

"It's the password to get past the gargoyle outside his study," said Harry in a low voice. "Ha! Snape's not going to be pleased... I won't be able to do his detention!"

He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room where they grudgingly started Snape's homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period (though she considerably speed up the process). They had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and they beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.

When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L. grade, but four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry liked despite his rather pompous manner.

"Harry," Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as Harry approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defense Against The Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old D.A. lags... And how are you, Ron, Hermione?"

Before they could say more than "fine," the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and something flowery he thought he might have smelled at the Burrow. He found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Ron, who grinned back lazily.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors.

"I'm sorry for the interruption professor, but we have just found the classroom. If we may enter, sir?" the class looked baffled as the three ninjas appeared in the doorway. They were even more surprised as they heard the pink haired woman speak. Slughorn nodded, gave them a half-smile and resumed his lesson.

"Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making..."

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.

"Harry, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything-nor's Ron-we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see-"

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention... not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts..."

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione, although she didn't take her eyes off of the guests near the desk.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known... Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too... Who can-?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mud-like substance the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one her... yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-"

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No. I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.

Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched him in the face. Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year-I'd've told him so if he'd asked me!"

Hermione smiled but made a "shushing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying. Ron looked slightly disgruntled.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room-oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love...

"And now," said Slughorn, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho," said Slughorn again. Harry was sure that Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all Harry could see of Malfoy was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed ... at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know... highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly and very occasionally..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.

"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, thought Harry, the effect was good.

"And that," said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt."

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competition... sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only... and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!"

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that lucky day. Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent him.

To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, he saw Malfoy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could.

Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing; this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-colored liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction:

Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" Harry looked up; Slughorn was just passing the Slytherin table.

"Yes," said Slughorn, without looking at Malfoy, "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age... "

And he walked away. Harry bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini; perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.

The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Harry turned to Hermione.

"Can I borrow your silver knife?"

She nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.

Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all.

Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of instructions. According the book, he had to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice?

Harry stirred counterclockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned pale pink.

"How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione, who was red faced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.

"Add a clockwise stir-"

"No, no, the book says counterclockwise!" she snapped.

Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing. Seven stirs counterclockwise, one clockwise, pause... seven stirs counterclockwise, one stir clockwise...

Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his. He felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in this dungeon.

"And time's... up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tar-like substance in Ron's cauldron. He passed over Ernie's navy concoction. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod. Then he saw Harry's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are-one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins' faces and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione's. Ron looked simply dumbfounded.

"How did you do that?" he whispered to Harry as they left the dungeon.

"Got lucky, I suppose," said Harry, because Malfoy was within earshot.

Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered.

"I s'pose you think I cheated?" he finished, aggravated by her expression.

"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" she said stiffly.

"He only followed different instructions to ours," said Ron, "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off." He heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but-"

"Hang on," said a voice close by Harry's left ear and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn's dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"

She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her mind at once.

"It's nothing," he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."

"But you're doing what it says?"

"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny-"

"Ginny's got a point," said Hermione, perking up at once. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?"

"Hey!" said Harry indignantly, as she pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and raised her wand.

"Specialis Revelio!" she said, rapping it smartly on the front cover. Nothing whatsoever happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.

"Finished?" said Harry irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few back-flips?"

"It seems all right," said Hermione, still staring at the book suspiciously. "I mean, it really does seem to be ... just a textbook."

"Good. Then I'll have it back," said Harry, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor. Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.

_This book is the property of the Half Blood Prince..._

On the other part of the castle the three ninjas seemed to be enjoying their peace and quiet. Even Naruto was quiet so it was obvious how tiring the day had been, though highly enlightening as Sakura launched into the review of today.

"One thing I found suspicious is this, Slughorn didn't seem as biased as Snape, yet he almost completely disregarded Malfoy, also did you see that book Harry had? I've a bad feeling about it, I saw a bit of what it read when I looked around the groups, it wasn't as the rest of the manuals... not even a bit actually. We have to check it out."

"Yeah, yeah, Sakura-chan, what I wanna know is what the hell is Quidditch, I heard a number of students speak of it, yet what is it? Do we have it in those files?" Naruto interrupted, throwing himself on the couch, much to Sasuke's displeasure, if the glare was anything to go by.

"No, but you should already know that as you were supposed to read then, Naruto!"

"Hmm, anyway, let's find the schedule for the rest of the week. How are we splitting the classes?" Sasuke spoke and the woman almost punched him for nothing at all, but conceded in the end, he was right, this time.

"Well, we've got the time table for the Potter kid and his friends , also Malfoy's, why don't we take one each, and the rest of the classes that aren't the important we switch to others we want or plain scouting. Also where will we train?" Naruto finally snapped into his business mode, yet Sakura couldn't answer as she didn't know.

"I'll go by Dumbledore's office tomorrow and ask. Let's sleep, I think we'll need it. Also we should contact Tsunade-shishou next morning." And with that ended their first day at Hogwarts. Sakura chose to take Draco Malfoy's and Hermione Granger's time tables, Naruto took Harry and Ron Weasley's while Sasuke chose to scout the whole castle.

_**Well this was it, I sure hope you enjoyed it,**_

_**R&R **_

_M.D.D._


	4. Chapter 3

_**A/N I'd like to thank my reviewers, my followers and the people who faved my story... I hope I won't disappoint you. Also I won't be updating for about 2-3 week as I'm busy with school work and final term exams. Enjoy! ^_^**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Naruto. **_

_**Chapter 3**_

The next day began in a frenzy for the three ninjas as their sleep was cut short due to the ghost's, Peeves, interference. He had entered their bedrooms without a sound than he started to scream until the paintings on the wall shook. By that time the three had jumped up and out of their beds, one kunai in hand, leaping through the air to accost whatever intruder awoke them only to fall through the spirit and tangle themselves with one another. Sakura was at the bottom, as she was the one who'd leaped first, her mouth full of Naruto's blonde hair, her left foot unable to move underneath Sasuke who was grunting in pain as her foot and Naruto's elbow were digging into his ribs. Naruto himself, who was on top of the human pyramid, had Sakura's hands wrapped around his neck, slightly strangling him.

"Dobe! Get off!" groaned Sasuke, moving a leg to kick the blonde off, but only managing to push him slightly forward, tightening Sakura's hold on him, hurting both him and the woman.

"Stop! Sasuke stop! My hands are choking him!" She grumbled, her voice barely loud enough, but it reached the brunette nevertheless, he stopped.

"Thank you Sakura-chan." rasped Naruto. Then he realized, Sakura's hands might be around his neck, but he could disentangle them, easily even, by rotating and dragging his head out, then he'd be able to get up and then Sasuke could too and that would be it.

"Guys! I think I got it. I'll turn over and get my head out. Just don't move please." and he did as he had said. In mere seconds he was to his feet and then helping Sakura up as Sasuke got up on his own.

"Ugh, never again!" she muttered, the guys nodded in complete agreement to her words. "Ok, now that we're up, breakfast? Or should we first send word to Shishou?"

"Breakfast, then we talk to Baa-chan." and he was gone. Naruto had run out of the room, his stomach growling making his female team mate laugh.

The rest of the day went much in the same way as their morning, the owls had pecked them so they got out with arms bloody, but the letter sent, the classes had been either so boring they left in the middle of a lecture or so horribly wrong, like Potions where they broke a few items and wasted a good amount of supplies, or plain terrible like DADA, they took the students acronym as it was shorter, where they revisited Professor Snape, who hadn't changed in the span of a day. Then, at about 4:45 pm, they got a message from Dumbledore asking them to come to a special lesson with him and Harry Potter. Sasuke and Naruto declined, they had other duties to attend to, but Sakura went. She entered the Headmasters office by saying the password "Acid pops" and found the Professor inside. Together they waited for the boy to arrive. They talked about the school's history, about her assignment, about the children they were meant to protect when finally Harry knocked.

"Come in," said Dumbledore and Sakura straightened in her seat, she wondered how the boy would react to her being there.

"Good evening, sir," said Harry, walking into the Headmaster's office. He immediately noticed her, confused he looked at the Professor for explanation, but the man said nothing about it.

"Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yes, thanks, sir," said Harry.

"You must have been busy, a detention under your belt already!"

"Er," began Harry awkwardly, but Dumbledore did not look too stern.

"I have arranged with Professor Snape that you will do your detention next Saturday instead."

"Right," said Harry, who had more pressing matters on his mind than Snape's detention, and now looked around surreptitiously for some indication of what Dumbledore was planning to do with him this evening. The circular office looked just as it always did; the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing smoke and whirring; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed in their frames, and Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, stood on his perch behind the door, watching Harry with bright interest. It did not even look as though Dumbledore had cleared a space for dueling practice and yet what was she doing there.

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these -for want of a better word – lessons? You too, Miss Sakura, I'm sure."

"Yes, sir."

"Quite so, Professor" they both said at the same time.

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information." There was a pause.

"You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything," said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice. "Sir," he added.

"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I knew. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right?" said Harry.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being - forgive me-rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly larger."

"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me... survive?"

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Dumbledore, as casually as if Harry had asked him about the next day's weather, "and I certainly hope that it will help you to survive."

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry, who turned eagerly in his seat to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Harry, Sakura, who'd never seen such an instrument stood still but on guard…

"You look worried."

Harry had indeed been eying the Pensieve with some apprehension. His previous experiences with the odd device that stored and revealed thoughts and memories, though highly instructive, had also been uncomfortable. The last time he had disturbed its contents, he had seen much more than he would have wished. But Dumbledore was smiling.

"This time, you enter the Pensieve with me... and, even more unusually, with permission."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," said Dumbledore, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance.

"Who was Bob Ogden?" This time it was the unusual haired woman who asked the question.

"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry, Sakura ..."

But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: his injured hand seemed stiff and painful.

"Shall -shall I, sir?"

"No matter, Harry -"

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.

"Sir-how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity, Sakura's own hands itched to heal the obviously painful wound.

"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden."

Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas. "After you," said Dumbledore, gesturing toward the bowl.

Harry bent forward, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was blinking in dazzling sunlight. Before his eyes had adjusted, Dumbledore landed beside him along with the woman called Sakura. She seemed a bit out of her place, but Harry could hardly blame her.

They were standing in a country lane bordered by high, tangled hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as a forget-me-not. Some ten feet in front of them stood a short, plump man wearing enormously thick glasses that reduced his eyes to mole-like specks. He was reading a wooden signpost that was sticking out of the brambles on the left-hand side of the road. Harry knew this must be Ogden; he was the only person in sight, and he was also wearing the strange assortment of clothes so often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying to look like Muggles: in this case, a frock coat and spats over a striped one-piece bathing costume. Before Harry had time to do more than register his bizarre appearance, however, Ogden had set off at a brisk walk down the lane.

Dumbledore, Sakura and Harry followed. As they passed the wooden sign, Harry looked up at its two arms. The one pointing back the way they had come read: "Great Hangleton, 5 miles". The arm pointing after Ogden said "Little Hangleton, 1 mile".

They walked a short way with nothing to see but the hedgerows, the wide blue sky overhead and the swishing, frock-coated figure ahead. Then the lane curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected view of a whole valley laid out in front of them. Harry could see a village, undoubtedly Little Hangleton, nestled between two steep hills, its church and graveyard clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the opposite hillside, was a handsome manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn. "Beautiful" thought Sakura.

Ogden had broken into a reluctant trot due to the steep downward slope. Dumbledore lengthened his stride, and Harry hurried to keep up, Sakura just seemed to walk at a normal pace as she was used to walking at such a speed. He thought Little Hangleton must be their final destination and wondered, as he had done on the night they had found Slughorn, why they had to approach it from such a distance. He soon discovered that he was mistaken in thinking that they were going to the village, however. The lane curved to the right and when they rounded the corner, it was to see the very edge of Ogden's frock coat vanishing through a gap in the hedge.

The three followed him onto a narrow dirt track bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows than those they had left behind. The path was crooked, rocky, and potholed, sloping downhill like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a little below them. Sure enough, the track soon opened up at the copse, and Dumbledore and Harry came to a halt behind Ogden, who had stopped and drawn his wand. Sakura stepped forward to look closer at the building?

Despite the cloudless sky, the old trees ahead cast deep, dark, cool shadows, and it was a few seconds before Harry's eyes discerned the building half-hidden amongst the tangle of trunks. It seemed to him a very strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd decision to leave the trees growing nearby, blocking all light and the view of the valley below. He wondered whether it was inhabited; its walls were mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime. Just as he had concluded that nobody could possibly live there, however, one of the windows was thrown open with a clatter, and a thin trickle of steam or smoke issued from it, as though somebody was cooking.

Ogden moved forward quietly and, it seemed to Harry, rather cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees slid over him, he stopped again, staring at the front door, to which somebody had nailed a dead snake. It was then that Sakura drew back and stood beside her two companions.

Then there was a rustle and a crack, and a man in rags dropped from the nearest tree, landing on his feet right in front of Ogden, who leapt backward so fast he stood on the tails of his frock coat and stumbled.

"You're not welcome."

The man standing before them had thick hair so matted with dirt it could have been any color. Several of his teeth were missing. His eyes were small and dark and stared in opposite directions. He might have looked comical, but he did not; the effect was frightening, and Harry could not blame Ogden for backing away several more paces before he spoke.

"Er-good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic -"

"You're not welcome."

"Er-I'm sorry... I don't understand you," said Ogden nervously.

Harry thought Ogden was being extremely dim; the stranger was making himself very clear in Harry's opinion, particularly as he was brandishing a wand in one hand and a short and rather bloody knife in the other.

"You understand him, I'm sure, Harry?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Yes, of course," said Harry, slightly nonplussed. "Why can't Ogden-?"

But as his eyes found the dead snake on the door again, he suddenly understood.

"He's speaking Parseltongue?"

"Very good," said Dumbledore, nodding and smiling.

"Um...What is Parseltongue?" Sakura asked, frowning at the strange hissing.

"It is the language of snakes, Miss Haruno." she nodded at the explication, she did find it odd though how Harry understood it.

The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other.

"Now, look -" Ogden began, but too late: there was a bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.

"Morfin!" said a loud voice.

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This man was shorter than the first, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.

"Ministry, is it?" said the older man, looking down at Ogden.

"Correct!" said Ogden angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?"

"'S right," said Gaunt. "Got you in the face, did he?"

"Yes, he did!" snapped Ogden.

"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Gaunt aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself."

"Defend himself against what, man?" said Ogden, clambering back to his feet.

"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth."

Ogden pointed his wand at his own nose, which was still issuing large amounts of what looked like yellow pus, and the flow stopped at once. Mr. Gaunt spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Morfin.

"Get in the house. Don't argue."

This time, ready for it, Harry recognized Parseltongue; even while he could understand what was being said, he distinguished the weird hissing noise that was all Ogden could hear. Morfin seemed to be on the point of disagreeing, but when his father cast him a threatening look he changed his mind, lumbering away to the cottage with an odd rolling gait and slamming the front door behind him, so that the snake swung sadly again.

"It's your son I'm here to see, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, as he mopped the last of the pus from the front of his coat. "That was Morfin, wasn't it?"

"Ar, that was Morfin," said the old man indifferently. "Are you pure-blood?" he asked, suddenly aggressive.

"That's neither here nor there," said Ogden coldly, and Harry felt his respect for Ogden rise.

Apparently Gaunt felt rather differently. He squinted into Ogden's face and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to be an offensive tone, "Now I come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village."

"I don't doubt it, if your son's been let loose on them," said Ogden. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"

"Inside?"

"Yes, Mr Gaunt. I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl -"

"I've no use for owls," said Gaunt. "I don't open letters."

"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors," said Ogden tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of Wizarding law, which occurred here in the early hours of this morning -"

"All right, all right, all right!" bellowed Gaunt. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"

The house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. Morfin was sitting in a filthy armchair beside the smoking fire, twisting a live adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue:

_Hissy, hissy, little snakey,_

_Slither on the floor_

_You be good to Morfin_

_Or he'll nail you to the door._

There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the open window, and Harry realized that there was somebody else in the room, a girl whose ragged gray dress was the exact color of the dirty stone wall behind her. She was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank and dull and she had a plain, pale, rather heavy face. Her eyes, like her brother's, stared in opposite directions. She looked a little cleaner than the two men, but Harry thought he had never seen a more defeated-looking person. Sakura, who'd been observing everything thus then, had abruptly stopped looking around and instead focused on the girl. She felt and odd sense of pity and apprehension fill her.

"M'daughter, Merope," said Gaunt grudgingly, as Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.

"Good morning," said Ogden.

She did not answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her.

"Well, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, "to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your son, Morfin, performed magic in front of a Muggle late last night."

There was a deafening clang. Merope had dropped one of the pots.

"Pick it up!" Gaunt bellowed at her. "That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?"

"Mr Gaunt, please!" said Ogden in a shocked voice, as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily scarlet, lost her grip on the pot again, drew her wand shakily from her pocket, pointed it at the pot, and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that caused the pot to shoot across the floor away from her, hit the opposite wall, and crack in two.

Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter. Gaunt screamed, "Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!"

Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had time to raise her wand, Ogden had lifted his own and said firmly, "Reparo." The pot mended itself instantly. Had Dumbledore not caught her arm, Sakura would have jumped at the bastard. How dare he call himself the girl's father?!

Gaunt looked for a moment as though he was going to shout at Ogden, but seemed to think better of it: instead, he jeered at his daughter, "Lucky the nice man from the Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands; perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs..."

Without looking at anybody or thanking Ogden, Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite still, her back against the wall between the filthy window and the stove, as though she wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and vanish.

"Mr. Gaunt," Ogden began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit -"

"I heard you the first time!" snapped Gaunt. "And so what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him-what about it, then?"

"Morfin has broken Wizarding law," said Ogden sternly.

"'Morfin has broken Wizarding law.'" Gaunt imitated Ogden's voice, making it pompous and singsong. Morfin cackled again. "He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?"

"Yes," said Ogden. "I'm afraid it is."

He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and unrolled it.

"What's that, then, his sentence?" said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily.

"It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing -"

"Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?"

"I'm Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad," said Ogden.

"And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Gaunt, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. "Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? Do you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?"

"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr Gaunt," said Ogden, looking wary, but standing his ground.

"That's right!" roared Gaunt. For a moment, Harry thought Gaunt was making an obscene hand gesture, but then realized that he was showing Ogden the ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his middle finger, waving it before Ogden's eyes. "See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our family, that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?"

"I've really no idea," said Ogden, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose, "and it's quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed -"

With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter. For a split second, Harry thought he was going to throttle her as his hand flew to her throat; next moment, he was dragging her toward Ogden by a gold chain around her neck.

"See this?" he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.

"I see it, I see it!" said Ogden hastily.

"Slytherins!" yelled Gaunt. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, eh?"

"Mr. Gaunt, your daughter!" said Ogden in alarm, but Gaunt had already released Merope; she staggered away from him, back to her corner, massaging her neck and gulping for air.

"So!" said Gaunt triumphantly, as though he had just proved a complicated point beyond all possible dispute. "Don't you go talking to us as if we're dirt on your shoes! Generations of pure-bloods, wizards all-more than you can say, I don't doubt!"

And he spat on the floor at Ogden's feet. Morfin cackled again. Merope, huddled beside the window, her head bowed and her face hidden by her lank hair, said nothing.

"Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden doggedly, "I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter in hand. I am here because of Morfin, Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last night. Our information"-he glanced down at his scroll of parchment-"is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle, causing him to erupt in highly painful hives."

Morfin giggled.

"Be quiet, boy," snarled Gaunt in Parseltongue, and Morfin fell silent again.

"And so what if he did, then?" Gaunt said defiantly to Ogden, "I expect you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him, and his memory to boot-"

"That's hardly the point, is it, Mr. Gaunt?" said Ogden. "This was an unprovoked attack on a defenseless -"

"Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you," sneered Gaunt, and he spat on the floor again.

"This discussion is getting us nowhere," said Ogden firmly. "It is clear from your son's attitude that he feels no remorse for his actions." He glanced down at his scroll of parchment again. "Morfin will attend a hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and distress to that same Mugg -"

Ogden broke off. The jingling, clopping sounds of horses and loud, laughing voices were drifting in through the open window. Apparently the winding lane to the village passed very close to the copse where the house stood. Gaunt froze, listening, his eyes wide. Morfin hissed and turned his face toward the sounds, his expression hungry. Merope raised her head. Her face, Harry saw, was starkly white.

"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a girl's voice, as clearly audible through the open window as if she had stood in the room beside them. "Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?"

"It's not ours," said a young man's voice. "Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt, and his children. The son's quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village -"

The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder and louder. Morfin made to get out of his armchair.

"Keep your seat," said his father warningly, in Parseltongue.

"Tom," said the girl's voice again, now so close they were clearly right beside the house, "I might be wrong-but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?"

"Good lord, you're right!" said the man's voice. "That'll be the son; I told you he's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling."

The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing fainter again.

"'Darling,'" whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, looking at his sister. "'Darling, he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway."

Merope was so white Harry felt sure she was going to faint.

"What's that?" said Gaunt sharply, also in Parseltongue, looking from his son to his daughter. "What did you say, Morfin?"

"She likes looking at that Muggle," said Morfin, a vicious expression on his face as he stared at his sister, who now looked terrified. "Always in the garden when he passes, peering through the hedge at him, isn't she? And last night-"

Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly, but Morfin went on ruthlessly, "Hanging out of the window waiting for him to ride home, wasn't she?"

"Hanging out of the window to look at a Muggle?" said Gaunt quietly.

All three of the Gaunts seemed to have forgotten Ogden, who was looking both bewildered and irritated at this renewed outbreak of incomprehensible hissing and rasping.

"Is it true?" said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two toward the terrified girl. "My daughter-pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin-hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?"

Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.

"But I got him, Father!" cackled Morfin. "I got him as he went by and he didn't look so pretty with hives all over him, did he, Merope?"

"You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor!" roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat.

Both Harry and Ogden yelled "No!" at the same time; Ogden raised his wand and cried, "Relashio!" Sakura sighed in relief.

Gaunt was thrown backward, away from his daughter; he tripped over a chair and fell flat on his back. With a roar of rage, Morfin leaped out of his chair and ran at Ogden, brandishing his bloody knife and firing hexes indiscriminately from his wand.

Ogden ran for his life. Dumbledore indicated that they ought to follow and Harry obeyed, Merope's screams echoing in his ears. Sakura stood there for a few seconds more, before she too followed.

Ogden hurtled up the path and erupted onto the main lane, his arms over his head, where he collided with the glossy chestnut horse ridden by a very handsome, dark-haired young man. Both he and the pretty girl riding beside him on a gray horse roared with laughter at the sight of Ogden, who bounced off the horse's flank and set off again, his frock coat flying, covered from head to foot in dust, running pell-mell up the lane.

"I think that will do, Harry," said Dumbledore. He took Harry by the elbow and tugged, doing the same to Sakura's. Next moment, they were both soaring weightlessly through darkness, until they landed squarely on their feet, back in Dumbledore's now twilit office.

"What happened to the girl in the cottage?" said Harry at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand. "Merope, or whatever her name was?"

"Oh, she survived," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk and indicating that Harry should sit down too. "Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Ogden, received six months."

"Marvolo?" Harry repeated wonderingly.

"That's right," said Dumbledore, smiling in approval. "I am glad to see you're keeping up."

"That old man was-?"

"Voldemort's grandfather, yes," said Dumbledore. "Marvolo, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense coupled with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family gold was squandered several generations before Marvolo was born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a very nasty temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance and pride, and a couple of family heirlooms that he treasured just as much as his son, and rather more than his daughter."

"So Merope," said Harry, leaning forward in his chair and staring at Dumbledore, "so Merope was ... Sir, does that mean she was... Voldemort's mother?"

"It does," said Dumbledore. "And it so happens that we also had a glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed?"

"The Muggle Morfin attacked? The man on the horse?"

"Very good indeed," said Dumbledore, beaming. "Yes, that was Tom Riddle senior, the handsome Muggle who used to go riding past the Gaunt cottage and for whom Merope Gaunt cherished a secret, burning passion."

"And they ended up married?" Harry said in disbelief, unable to imagine two people less likely to fall in love.

"I think you are forgetting," said Dumbledore, "that Merope was a witch. I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best advantage when she was being terrorized by her father. Once Marvolo and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life, then, I am sure, she was able to give full rein to her abilities and to plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for eighteen years."

"Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his Muggle companion, and fall in love with her instead?"

"The Imperius Curse?" Harry suggested. "Or a love potion?"

"Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her, and I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter, Merope.

"But the villagers' shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal ready on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done.

"From all that I have been able to discover, he never mentioned her name or existence from that time forth. The shock of her desertion may have contributed to his early death-or perhaps he had simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo, and he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage."

"And Merope? She ... she died, didn't she? Wasn't Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?"

"Yes, indeed," said Dumbledore. "We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumor flew around the neighborhood that he was talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in.' What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason."

"But she did have his baby."

"But not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant."

"What went wrong?" asked Harry. "Why did the love potion stop working?"

"Again, this is guesswork," said Dumbledore, "but I believe that Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by magical means. I believe that she made the choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in love with her in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby's sake. If so, she was wrong on both counts. He left her, never saw her again, and never troubled to discover what became of his son."

The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in Dumbledore's office seemed to glow more brightly than before.

"I think that will do for tonight, Harry," said Dumbledore after a moment or two.

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

He got to his feet, but did not leave.

"Sir ... is it important to know all this about Voldemort's past?"

"Very important, I think," said Dumbledore.

"And it... it's got something to do with the prophecy?"

"It has everything to do with the prophecy."

"Right," said Harry, a little confused, but reassured all the same.

He turned to go, then another question occurred to him, and he turned back again. "Sir, am I allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything you've told me?"

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then said, "Yes, I think Mr Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trustworthy. But Harry, I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got around how much I know, or suspect, about Lord Voldemort's secrets."

"No, sir, I'll make sure it's just Ron and Hermione. Good night."

He turned away again, and was almost at the door when he saw it. Sitting on one of the little spindle-legged tables that supported so many frail-looking silver instruments, was an ugly gold ring set with a large, cracked, black stone.

"Sir," said Harry, staring at it. "That ring-"

"Yes?" said Dumbledore.

"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night."

"So I was," Dumbledore agreed.

"But isn't it... sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"

Dumbledore bowed his head. "The very same."

"But how come... have you always had it?"

"No, I acquired it very recently," said Dumbledore. "A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact."

"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"

"Around that time, yes, Harry."

Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling.

"Sir, how exactly-?"

"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir."

Sakura however had stayed. She had, of course, heard everything that had been explained and she found herself feeling sorry for the so-called "Dark Lord". She knew from experience, as both Naruto and Sasuke were orphans, how horrible it was to grow up alone. She began seeing similarities between Voldemort and Naruto as she figured he hadn't quite fit in the orphanage partly due to him being a wizard and part due to the temper she'd witnessed at his family. It made sense that he grew up to become this.

"Professor? I have a question... well, really, it is more of a presumption than anything, but Voldemort... did he have a good childhood, sir?" she saw the man smile mischievously and she immediately realized she'd hit the nail on the head.

"Thank you Professor. This has been very enlightening indeed. I'll ask the same as Harry, may I share this with my team mates, sir? They should be aware of this information"

"Of course, Miss Haruno, I am quite sad that they could make it tonight as a matter of fact. I do hope to see them next time?" he inquired.

"I'm afraid I don't know sir. Good night." and she left. She couldn't wait to tell Naruto and Sasuke about all of this. _Who was useless now?! Huh, Uchiha?! _ She thought to herself, smiling proudly.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing goes in a corner and cries***

**Also I would like to thank my Beta Reader again, LordVoldything394 , she's a great person and you should really check out her fcs. A far better writer than me...**

**And last but not least, don't worry, while the action has been much the same as in the HP books so far, it'll change really soon, not this chapter but either the next one or the one after that. ^_^ Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4**

Sakura strolled down one of the many hallways of Hogwarts, trying to decide whether what she saw had, in any way, affected her view on the psychopath that was Lord Voldemort. As she was walking, in her mind's eye appeared a face that made her angry as hell. Sasuke had scoffed and snorted when she returned earlier that night with the news of their enemy's parentage. She was about to hit him into next week when Naruto suggested she went on a small night patrol. Maybe she should've first hit the bastard then follow her friend's advice, it had helped her think more clearly...

Regressing to the initial topic, she made up her mind: while, yes, it must have been horrible not knowing your parents, it is no excuse for the cruelty that is now happening. Voldemort is nothing like Naruto, or Gaara or even Sasuke. He is a monster... right? It's not like he was hated as a child thus wanting revenge, or seen his family slaughtered before him. But she found that the more she tried to ingrain this into her brain, her pity for the so-called Dark Lord rose. Maybe it was her shinobi view on life that led to this, maybe it was the fact she herself had killed before, she didn't know, but as much as she wanted to hate him, she couldn't quite manage it. However what he has done was unforgivable for her contractor and her duty dictates that she leaves personal feelings aside.

"Now... that's over and finished, what shall we do about a certain annoying Uchiha?" she smiled malevolently and cracked her knuckles.

Several months pass before anything interesting occurs. It is winter now, Harry and his friends are in Hogsmeade, enjoying some peace and quiet for a change, but that does not last long.

Harry squinted at the indistinct figures of Katie Bell and her friend. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Harry heard Katie say.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, blurring Harry's glasses. Just as he raised a gloved hand to wipe them, Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, not as Ron had done, suspended comically by the ankle, but gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie... Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching. A few feet away Naruto and Sasuke shifted their attention, from the quarreling third years they'd been on before, to the quintet

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any of them.

Harry looked around; the landscape seemed deserted.

"Stay there!" he shouted at the others over the howling wind. "I'm going for help!"

He began to sprint toward the school; he had never seen anyone behave as Katie had just behaved and could not think what had caused it; he hurtled around a bend in the lane and collided with what seemed to be an enormous bear on its hind legs.

"Hagrid!" he panted, disentangling himself from the hedgerow into which he had fallen.

"Harry!" said Hagrid, who had sleet trapped in his eyebrows and beard, and was wearing his great, shaggy beaver-skin coat. "Jus' bin visitin' Grawp, he's comin' on so well yeh wouldn' -"

"Hagrid, someone's hurt back there, or cursed, or something -"

"Wha ?" said Hagrid, bending lower to hear what Harry was saying over the raging wind.

"Someone's been cursed!" bellowed Harry.

"Cursed? Who's bin cursed-not Ron? Hermione?"

"No, it's not them, it's Katie Bell-this way..."

Together they ran back along the lane. It took them no time to find the little group of people around Katie, who was still writhing and screaming on the ground; Ron, Hermione, and Leanne were all trying to quiet her.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what -"

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

Hermione hurried over to Katie's wailing friend and put an arm around her.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?"

The girl nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or-?"

"It was when that package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Harry seized his arm and pulled him back. Not the same was to be said about the blond jinchuuriki. He and his friend had just arrived at the scene and Naruto, ignoring everybody around him, bent down, brushed his fingers over the pendant, however Sasuke pulled him back before more damage could be dealt. Too late it seemed as the blond crumbled to the ground, trashing and turning much like Katie had done moments ago. The Uchiha took off running after the half-giant.

"Don't touch it!"

Harry crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

"I've seen that before," said Harry, staring at the thing. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. "How did Katie get hold of this?"

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it... Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I didn't realize!"

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her, Leanne?"

"No... she wouldn't tell me... and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn't listen and... and then I tried to grab it from her... and - and -"

Leanne let out a wail of despair.

"We'd better get up to school," said Hermione, her arm still around Leanne. "We'll be able to find out how she is. Come on..."

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron's gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey," he said.

As they followed Hermione and Leanne up the road, Harry was thinking furiously. They had just entered the grounds when he spoke, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer.

"Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was hiding from him and his dad. This is what he was buying that day when we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!"

"I-I dunno, Harry," said Ron hesitantly. "Loads of people go to Borgin and Burke... and didn't that girl say Katie got it in the girls' bathroom?"

"She said she came back from the bathroom with it, she didn't necessarily get it in the bathroom itself-"

"McGonagall!" said Ron warningly.

Harry looked up. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them, accompanied by the pink haired guard. The young woman looked pale and her eyes were murky with unshed tears. She was worried.

"Hagrid says you four saw what happened to Katie Bell-upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Potter?"

"It's the thing she touched," said Harry.

"Good Lord," said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry. "No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

Harry and the others followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the still sobbing Leanne. Sakura chose to lean against a wall, allowing the shadows to engulf her.

"Well?" the professor said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.

"All right," said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock."

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air," said Harry, before either Ron or Hermione could speak, "and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore, please?"

"The Headmaster is away until Monday, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

"Away?" Harry repeated angrily.

"Yes, Potter, away!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!"

For a split second, Harry hesitated. Professor McGonagall did not invite confidences; Dumbledore, though in many ways more intimidating, still seemed less likely to scorn a theory, however wild. This was a life-and-death matter, though, and no moment to worry about being laughed at.

"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor."

On one side of him, Ron rubbed his nose in apparent embarrassment; on the other, Hermione shuffled her feet as though quite keen to put a bit of distance between herself and Harry and behind him, the strange woman drew a shaky breath. What did she know?

"That is a very serious accusation, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, after a shocked pause. "Do you have any proof?"

"No," said Harry, "but..." and he told her about following Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes and the conversation they had overheard between him and Mr. Borgin.

When he had finished speaking, Professor McGonagall looked slightly confused.

"Malfoy took something to Borgin and Burkes for repair?"

"No, Professor, he just wanted Borgin to tell him how to mend something, he didn't have it with him. But that's not the point, the thing is that he bought something at the same time, and I think it was that necklace -"

"You saw Malfoy leaving the shop with a similar package?"

"No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop for him -"

"But Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said no -"

"Because he didn't want to touch it, obviously!" said Harry angrily.

"What he actually said was, 'How would I look carrying that down the street?'" said Hermione.

"Well, he would look a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," interjected Ron.

"Oh, Ron," said Hermione despairingly, "it would be all wrapped up, so he wouldn't have to touch it, and quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so nobody would see it! I think whatever he reserved at Borgin and Burkes was noisy or bulky, something he knew would draw attention to him if he carried it down the street-and in any case," she pressed on loudly, before Harry could interrupt, "I asked Borgin about the necklace, don't you remember? When I went in to try and find out what Malfoy had asked him to keep, I saw it there. And Borgin just told me the price, he didn't say it was already sold or anything -"

"Well, you were being really obvious, he realized what you were up to within about five seconds, of course he wasn't going to tell you-anyway, Malfoy could've sent off for it since -"

"That's enough!" said Professor McGonagall, as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, looking furious. "Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely because he visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people -"

"- that's what I said -" muttered Ron.

"- and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year. I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge -"

"But -"

"- and what is more," said Professor McGonagall, with an air of awful finality, "Mr. Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today."

Harry gaped at her, deflating.

"How do you know, Professor?"

"Because he was doing detention with me. He has now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Potter," she said as she marched past them, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door. They had no choice but to file past her without another word.

Harry was angry with the other two for siding with McGonagall; nevertheless, he felt compelled to join in once they started discussing what had happened.

In McGonagall's office remained the kunoichi. She stepped forward, her countenance tense. "Professor, if you don't mind me asking, what shall happen to my friends and Ms Bell? Also, a curiosity I have, does Draco Malfoy have more problems this year in classes than any other?"

"Your friend will be taken to Saint Mungo's, as for Mr. Malfoy, I do not know. I shall ask the other professors if they noticed anything out of the ordinary." Sakura bowed and took off to the infirmary, at least she could have a glimpse at Naruto before he was shipped off at the wizarding hospital.

"So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Ron, as they climbed the stairs to the common room.

"Goodness only knows," said Hermione. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace."

"It could've been meant for loads of people," said Harry. "Dumbledore-the Death Eaters would love to get rid of him, he must be one of their top targets. Or Slughorn - Dumbledore reckons Voldemort really wanted him and they can't be pleased that he's sided with Dumbledore. Or -"

"Or you," said Hermione, looking troubled.

"Couldn't have been," said Harry, "or Katie would've just turned around in the lane and given it to me, wouldn't she? I was behind her all the way out of the Three Broomsticks. It would have made much more sense to deliver the parcel outside Hogwarts, what with Filch searching everyone who goes in and out. I wonder why Malfoy told her to take it into the castle?"

"Harry, Malfoy wasn't in Hogsmeade!" said Hermione, actually stamping her foot in frustration.

"He must have used an accomplice, then," said Harry. "Crabbe or Goyle-or, come to think of it, another Death Eater, he'll have loads better cronies than Crabbe and Goyle now he's joined up -"

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks that plainly said, "There's no point arguing with him."

"Dilligrout," said Hermione firmly as they reached the Fat Lady.

The portrait swung open to admit them to the common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have returned from Hogsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was no buzz of fear or speculation, however: clearly, the news of Katie's fate had not yet spread.

"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Ron, casually turfing a first year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."

"You're right," said Hermione, prodding Ron out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first year again. "It wasn't very well thought-out at all."

"But since when has Malfoy been one of the world's great thinkers?" asked Harry.

Neither Ron nor Hermione answered him.

Inside the infirmary, Sasuke and Sakura were having much the same conversation. Although the kid could still be innocent, it didn't appear that way, knowing his mission to kill the Headmaster, it was more than obvious what this attempt was, it was a show. It was a pretend at giving his assignment a try, it was just for the benefit of Voldemort, to prove to him that he was doing something, regardless of how pathetic it was. Draco Malfoy was stalling and both ninja's knew why. He hated doing this and he was afraid.

Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target. Naruto however had been committed until further notice as the combination between the curse and the Kyuubi proved to be dangerous.

"Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course," said Harry to Ron and Hermione, who continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory.

Harry had wondered whether Dumbledore would return from wherever he had been in time for Monday night's lesson, but having had no word to the contrary, he met with Sakura and presented himself outside Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter. There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired; his hand was as black and burned as ever, but he smiled when he gestured to Harry to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling. Sakura frowned, she had been itching to check that hand out ever since the first time she saw the injury, but Dumbledore seemed dead set on not allowing her.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said. "I believe you witnessed Katie's accident."

"Yes, sir. How is she?"

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin; there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse –"

Ah! So Naruto was worse due to the fact he'd touched the necklace with his bare hands too! Realized the woman.

"Why him?" asked Harry quickly. "Why not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, raised his head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day."

"Yes, thank you, Phineas," said Dumbledore quellingly. "Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, disregarding a strong feeling that he might be pushing his luck, a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus, who hissed softly.

"I would rather not say just now," said Dumbledore. "However, I shall tell you in due course."

"You will?" said Harry, startled, the ninja too shared his surprise.

"Yes, I expect so," said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of his wand.

"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade." To Sakura, that statement held no special meaning, but for the old wizard it seemed to have a different effect. She finally took a sit at the desk and listened intently.

"Ah yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has been treating your inheritance with light-fingered contempt," said Dumbledore, frowning a little. "He has gone to ground since you accosted him outside the Three Broomsticks; I rather think he dreads facing me. However, rest assured that he will not be making away with any more of Sirius's old possessions."

"That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?" said Phineas Nigellus, incensed; and he stalked out of his frame, undoubtedly to visit his portrait in number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"Professor," said Harry, after a short pause, "did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?"

"She told me of your suspicions, yes," said Dumbledore.

"And do you-?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident," said Dumbledore. "But what concerns me now, Harry, is our lesson."

Harry felt slightly resentful at this: if their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, he said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands. Sakura's heart pounded in anxiety, she was eager to find more about the evil maniac.

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort." the woman gave a soft snort, she found it heartless to think a mere baby, not even born yet, as the monster he grew up to be. It felt like Dumbledore was sealing his fate.

"How do you know she was in London, sir?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore, "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just been discussing."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along... going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Harry indignantly, but then calmed down as Sakura put her hand on his shoulder to calm the boy down. She too understood the necklace's value.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Dumbledore. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"But she could do magic!" said Harry impatiently. "She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief-I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right-that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life." Sakura shook her head, she had seen that happen back home, during the war. Mothers dying willingly, leaving their children alone because they could not bear the pain any longer. She didn't agree with the action, but she could see why anyone would do it. She had wanted to die once, when the loneliness and heartache got too bad, but Naruto helped her overcome this, him, her friends and her family. Merope had none.

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"

"No," said Harry quickly, "but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother -"

"Your mother had a choice too," said Dumbledore gently making the woman narrow her eyes, what was this man hiding? "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage. And now, if you will stand …"

_Of course she didn't! She lived her live abused and told she was __nothing, less even! How could she possibly be courageous when all she knew was fear and pain from her _family_. She could stand more so she chose the easy way out, I don't blame her, I probably would have done the same! _Thought Sakura, her hands gripping the edges of her seat a little too harshly.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as Dumbledore joined him at the front of the desk.

"This time," said Dumbledore, "we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry, Sakura ..."

Harry bent over the Pensieve; his face broke the cool surface of the memory and then he was falling through darkness again... Seconds later, his feet hit firm ground; he opened his eyes and found that he, Sakura and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.

"There I am," said Dumbledore brightly, pointing ahead of them to a tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.

This younger Albus Dumbledore's long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing.

"Nice suit, sir," said Harry, before he could stop himself, but Dumbledore merely chuckled as they followed his younger self a short distance, finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once. After a moment or two, the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. "Um... just a mo... MRS. COLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder.

Harry heard a distant voice shouting something in response. The girl turned back to Dumbledore.

"Come in, she's on 'er way."

Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Harry, Sakura and the older Dumbledore followed. Before the front door had closed behind them, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked toward Dumbledore.

"... and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets-chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to nobody in particular, and then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore, holding out his hand.

Mrs. Cole simply gaped.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh yes. Well-well then-you'd better come into my room. Yes."

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eying him nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future," said Dumbledore.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs. Cole.

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has qualities we are looking for."

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never been entered for one."

"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth -"

"Who registered him? His parents?"

There was no doubt that Mrs. Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for Harry now saw him slip his wand out of the pocket of his velvet suit, at the same time picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs. Cole's desktop.

"Here," said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he passed her the piece of paper, "I think this will make everything clear."

Mrs. Cole's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment.

"That seems perfectly in order," she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before.

"Er-may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined voice.

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore, beaming.

It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice when it came to gin drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one gulp. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right," said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more gin. "I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour."

Mrs. Cole nodded impressively and took another generous gulp of gin. Sakura grimaced, this wasn't a talk about the weather, the poor woman died, for goodness sake!

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty-and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father-yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus-and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word.

"Well, we named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here ever since."

Mrs. Cole helped herself, almost absent-mindedly, to another healthy measure of gin. Two pink spots had appeared high on her cheekbones. Then she said, "He's a funny boy."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was... odd."

"Odd in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well, he -"

But Mrs. Cole pulled up short, and there was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she shot Dumbledore over her gin glass.

"He's definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," said Dumbledore.

"You'll be taking him away, whatever?"

"Whatever," repeated Dumbledore gravely. Again Sakura could help but dislike the woman, just because Tom was different it didn't mean he had to be thrown out! She swore under her breath, though, thankfully, both men were too immersed in the scene playing before them to notice.

Mrs. Cole squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush, "He scares the other children."

"You mean he is a bully?" asked Dumbledore.

"I think he must be," said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents... nasty things ..."

Dumbledore did not press her, though Harry could tell that he was interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still.

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit... well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no," said Dumbledore quietly.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then-"Mrs. Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time, "on the summer outing-we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside-well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things..."

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady.

"I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" said Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs. Cole with a slight hiccup. She got to her feet, and Harry was impressed to see that she was quite steady, even though two-thirds of the gin was now gone. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"

"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising too. The pink-haired ninja slightly changed her view on the woman. It was indeed odd for a child to be this distant, though who was she to speak. Gaara had killed from when he was far younger than Tom was.

Mrs. Cole led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, Harry saw, were all wearing the same kind of grayish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up.

"Here we are," said Mrs. Cole, as they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton-sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you-well, I'll let him do it."

Harry, Sakura and the two Dumbledores entered the room, and Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of the gray blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book.

There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: he was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. ****Sorry for the long wait. I'll try to avoid it whenever I can.**

Chapter 5

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand.

The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

Despite neither Harry nor the other Dumbledore commenting, Sakura couldn't stop the thought that crossed her mind. Did Tom Riddle really fear doctors and has he been subjected to so many that he began thinking anybody that visited him was one? That was sad. She shook her head and found it disconcerting that she was thinking of their enemy as such, but there was no other way to do it.

"Who are you?" asked the boy, thus drawing the girl's attention once again.

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school-your new school, if you would like to come."

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course-well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!" unable to stop herself, the pink-haired girl let out a growl that went unnoticed.

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you -"

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities -"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper. Nodding fervently, Sakura's smile beamed directly at the confused boy.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's... it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial. Sakura stopped now, no longer the excited, bubbly mess she'd been mere seconds prior. Riddle looked almost frightening as she fought the urge to step back.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant-please, Professor, could you show me-?"

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles and must therefore be cautious. To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colourless voice, "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have - inadvertently, I am sure-been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic-yes, there is a Ministry-will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spell books and so on second-hand, but -"

"Where do you buy spell books?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything -"

"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up.

"Certainly, if you -"

"I don't need you," said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley-sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you-non-magical people, that is-will not. Ask for Tom the barman-easy enough to remember, as he shares your name -"

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly, Sakura, after being quiet and thoughtful for the last moments, lifted her head and immediately recognized the action, _Riddle hated his name._

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle. Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore. "It must've been him. So-when I've got all my stuff- when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips-they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

Harry could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress.

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other. Then the handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Goodbye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

"I think that will do," said the white-haired Dumbledore at Harry's side, causing the woman's head to snap towards him, and seconds later, they were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more, before landing squarely in the present-day office.

"Sit down," said Dumbledore, landing beside Harry, Sakura not far behind, landing gracefully on the floor in the Headmaster's office.

Harry obeyed, his mind still full of what he had just seen.

"He believed it much quicker than I did-I mean, when you told him he was a wizard," said Harry. "I didn't believe Hagrid at first, when he told me."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was-to use his word-'special,'" said Dumbledore.

"Did you know-then?" asked Harry.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and-most interestingly and ominously of all-he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: he was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive... I can make them hurt if I want to..."

"And he was a Parselmouth," interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.

"Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings."

"Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Harry nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

"And lastly... I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry-the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behaviour, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.

"And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry got to his feet. As he walked across the room, his eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there.

"Yes, Harry?" said Dumbledore, for Harry had come to a halt.

"The ring's gone," said Harry, looking around. "But I thought you might have the mouth organ or something."

Dumbledore beamed at him, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Very astute, Harry, but the mouth organ was only ever a mouth organ."

And on that enigmatic note he waved to Harry, who understood himself to be dismissed.

As the door closed behind the boy, Sakura finally let her questions and curiosity take course. She stood before the white haired man, patiently waiting for him to notice her.

"Sir, did you know that the particular characteristic of keeping trophies is a distinct feature of psychopaths? Or that the lack of friends or any real social relation inclines most people to think of a sociopath? Forgive my bluntness, Professor, but the child could have been helped. I've seen the obvious separation and animosity between houses, particularly towards Slytherin House and I have to ask, why did you never _do _something to lessen it!? It's not right, in the first place, to separate them as such, but this continuous fight is absolutely ridiculous!" she took a deep breath, blushed slightly in embarrassment and looked at the man behind the desk.

"That, my dear, I have tried to rectify but alas it is proven to be quite difficult as the quarrel has been this way from the founder's time. Are you aware of their history?" Sakura nodded, yes, she had read about them in several books. Salazar Slytherin had vaguely reminded her of Sasuke, even.

"Well, in any case, thank you, sir. I have to head back, my team mate is most certainly waiting for me to return." she bowed respectfully and left. Sure, the thought of Sasuke pacing around the room, worried, was hilarious, but what else was she supposed to say.

There was a silence surrounding each and every corridor until their dorm that made her remain on guard the whole way back, so much so that the hooting of an owl made her jump 3 feet in the air, drawing her kunai, but she'd managed to go through it. She put her hand on the door knob, entering their common room only to be greeted by the same atmosphere she had wanted to escape from. There were no lights on, no noise, as Naruto wasn't there to snore loudly and annoy her, no anything. She stopped, her hand outstretched in front of her, ready to strike at any moment. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and calmed her heart rate, letting her other senses take control.

Her head shifted, now facing her right as a soft, almost glide, movement caught her attention. She searched for a chakra pattern, but found none. Either Sasuke was nowhere near, or he had it masked, either way, there was no trace of anything remotely familiar about the situation. There passed a couple more minutes before the thing she'd heard launched, trapping the paranoid kunoichi beneath it. Sakura struggled, summoned her inhuman strength to her legs and, using the fact that they were tangled with whoever had attacked her, switched their position so she was now on top. She heard a groan as her kunai pressed against a windpipe.

Sakura snapped her eyes open and focused on the red, swirly ones beneath her, recognizing Sasuke. She relaxed then, letting out a breath of air that hit his face. She didn't get up though, she needed to teach him that this was not the right way to greet her, that he'd sort of scared her.

"You ass!"

"Hn. It's not my fault you are paranoid." he insisted and tried to throw her off, only to still again. Although she couldn't be sure as she was bat blind, she felt a heat envelop his face. What the hell?! Was he _blushing?!_ She was soon made aware of the exact cause as she shifted slightly. Her own face reddened and she stood up so fast she almost pulled a muscle.

"Ahh! Uhm... well... D-do you want to k-know what happened?" he nodded and turned on the light, just as she sat on the couch. Her face was not yet cooled so a small pinkness remained on her cheeks. Sasuke refused to think it looked cute and instead frowned and sat opposite to her.

"Well, we saw how Tom Riddle received his letter and how he was as a child. Frankly I found it unfair the way he was treated by the orphanage, but the kid was surely with problems. Really, I think this people are too shrouded in their comfortable, safe net to realise this all could have been taken care of before it even began. If they took time to get to know the kid, to be God-damn _nice_ to him then he probably wouldn't have become so closed off and hostile. But what's done is done and there is nothing we can do now except remove the threat. This being said I think we need to get close to the Malfoy kid." as she talked Sasuke didn't show any sign of listening to her, it was like he was ignoring her entirely, however he did nod at her request. She was right, of course, Draco Malfoy already played a big part in this whole thing due to Dumbledore's plan, now they needed him to trust them. Plus, he was as much of a victim as Harry was as far as they were concerned.

With the new plan set and all its details discussed, the two went their separate ways to sleep. Tomorrow they would truly begin their assignment, at last.

The morning came without any certain problems or hustle, reminding them once again that Naruto would not return for a few months. It was too quiet for Sakura so she and Sasuke decided to take breakfast in the Great Hall. They went different ways, disjointing the moment the stepped inside the Hall. Sakura went to their usual place near the teacher's table while Sasuke joined the Slytherins.

For the most part of the day, Sakura did what she'd gotten accustomed to doing, she attended some courses, she patrolled the grounds until morning turn to noon. She saw nothing of Sasuke all day except for the small time before breakfast so she was curious what he'd accomplished with Malfoy. Also she overheard an interesting conversation between Harry and his friends. It would appear Snape had made a deal with Draco's mother to protect him. An _Unbreakable Vow_ they'd called it and she did her research, that particular spell tied the parties involved forever. If you didn't do what you _vowed_ to do you died, the name befitted the spell, thought Sakura, smiling ironically.

She was training in the Forbidden Forest now, blowing off some steam and waiting for the Uchiha to arrive. She was currently revising her new and improved chakra scalpel when she felt his chakra enter the forest. She realized by the restlessness of it that something angered the man. His face appeared between some tree and Sakura let the green energy fade completely. What happened?! She hadn't seen him so angry in ages!

"Uhm... Sasuke? What- what is the matter?" she carefully inquired, making sure she wouldn't make things worse. Sasuke in turn remained quiet and just moved closer. He took his fighting stance, letting her know he wanted to spar. Nodding, Sakura copied his movement and prepared to attack. The fight went on a long time, the rest of the afternoon flying by fast as they exchanged punches, this being the extent of their hits. They were still doing this now, almost 4 hours later, taijutsu only. However, despite the fight, Sasuke's frustration didn't let up at all, in fact it increased somewhat. Thus, the moment he activated his Sharingan, Sakura gathered chakra in her fists. The fight was only now getting serious, it seemed. One Katon sent her way urged her to punch the ground, shattering it all around her, creating a barrier for the fire. As it dissipated, she jumped towards him, a storm of senbon needles used as distraction. She neared his spot, fist ready, but the blow never hit its target as something pulled her leg from beneath. She saw a hand come out, watched the senbons pierce his skin and felt the smoke released as the shadow clone disappeared. She sent one look at the body climbing out of the ground, before Sasuke pinned her hands behind her back and slammed her on a tree bark not far away from where they'd stood.

Panting for air, Sakura and Sasuke both remained unmoving, just breathing harshly against one another's faces, staring at each other. He still held her hands, but the vice-like grip loosened, she was still tense, but the previous danger was now non-existent. As the chilling winter breeze brushed through the trees around them, their bodies shook with the cold, unknowingly urging the two to come closer, the heat emanating by their skin too sweet to pass up. Sakura arched her back toward the man, and Sasuke in turn took a step forward. They were flushed with the exertion of their fight, sweaty and tired, their breaths just barely resuming their usual rhythm, hearts still beating fast. Sasuke's gaze held even now a hint of anger, but it had, most definitely, vanished for the most part.

Unable to move, Sakura struggled feebly against Sasuke to make him let her go, but he refused to budge. This continued for a couple more minutes until her own anger overruled all other feeling. She readied herself to kick his shin, effectively throwing him off, only he caught her before she had her chance. She glared and turned her face up at him, but before she could retort some snide or sarcastic comment, Sasuke surprised her. He captured her lips with his, slowly massaging them, waiting for her to reciprocate. She first tensed, prepared to punch his daylights out, but as she felt his warm, slightly chapped lips upon her own she relaxed. He took this as an agreement so he let his tongue trace Sakura's lower lip, gently tugging it with his teeth. The woman in turn, moaned deep in her throat and grabbed at his neck as his own hands gripped her waist. They let the snow surround them as they kissed, slowly, patiently, passionately. Sasuke let his walls crumble under her sighs and groans as Sakura ignored her rage and insecurities under his heated embrace.

Back inside Hogwarts, Harry could not see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which was in full swing when he arrived. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted his appearance, and he was soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating him. What with trying to shake off the Creevey brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of girls that encircled him, laughing at his least amusing comments and batting their eyelids, it was some time before he could try and find Ron. At last, he extricated himself from Romilda Vane, who was hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him. As he was ducking toward the drinks table, he walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.

"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."

Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry."

She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, but then she walked off to help herself to more butterbeer. Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.

Harry turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole was closing. With a sinking feeling, he thought he saw a mane of bushy brown hair whip-ping out of sight.

He darted forward, sidestepped Romilda Vane again, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside, seemed to be deserted.

"Hermione?"

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of mid-air. Harry could not help admiring her spell-work at a time like this.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practising."

"Yeah . . . they're — er — really good. ..." said Harry.

He had no idea what to say to her. He was just wondering whether there was any chance that she had not noticed Ron, that she had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when she said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er . . . does he?" said Harry.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was — ?"

The door behind them burst open. To Harry's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her.

There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron, who refused to look at her, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"

Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway.

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

Hermione ran down the corridors until she reached the door to Myrtle's bathroom. Throwing the door open and closing it with a loud BANG, she entered a stall, crying. She was close to sobbing with loud, intermittent hiccups and sniffing, but the door was jerked open and slammed back up. She slapped her hands over her mouth, the tears falling down her face coming to a stop and she drew her legs up to her chest as she was sitting upon a toilet. She heard the distinct screech of the tap being turn and the sound of water rushing. She also heard the splash as it hit, possibly, a pair of hands.

Quietly, as to not alert the other individual inside the bathroom of her presence, she peeked through the slight gap between the door to the stall and wall to see him or her. She was a pair of black trousers, continued by a white shirt and a silver and green tie. She immediately moved back, mentally chastising herself for the usually loud action. Once she calmed her racing heart and waited enough to make sure he hadn't heard her, her brain began processing the information.

So, a Slytherin was, late at night, sneaking up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and he was apparently worried about something if the hunched over position was anything to go by. Hermione thought about the identity of the guy. She felt sort of sorry for him, he was obviously in a lot of problems if this was his only way out. The one boy that came to her that could be _him_ was Theodore Nott. The kid was most definitely troubled, she knew. She'd seen him last year as he tried to help the DA with escaping from Umbridge, she'd also heard him fight with his mother about his father, saying he hated him. From what Hermione remembered about the whole fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, she was sure the Nott Senior was a Death Eater, so she could understand why the kid hated the guy. Problem is, Theo Nott was currently serving detention with McGonagall tonight so there was no way he was at the sink, hunched over as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. She thought of others, but she came up with none that fit. Sure there could have been a few that fit, but they were all mostly accounted for. Great! She thought.

Taking a deep breath, steadying herself and letting that Gryffindor courage sweep over her, Hermione prepared herself to try once more to see the guy mere feet away from her. She softly planted her feet to the floor, making sure she made no noise, she opened the door a little bit more and leaned forward to look through the space created. She saw again his clothes, his built; lean, tall, he must be playing Quidditch, she mused, and finally, she reached his head. His platinum-blonde one at that. This time Hermione couldn't stop the noise she made, nor the fact that she fell forward onto the dirty floor. She heard rather than saw Malfoy face her, jumping like a deer caught in headlights, and raise his wand at her. She was too far gone to care though. As she fell, she cracked her head on the tile, blood sweeping through the tiny wound. She tried to lift her head to look at him, or to talk and ask for help, but she was too weak, too disoriented to do so.

Hermione Granger lost consciousness. Granger had seen him at his worst. Granger was in front of him, bleeding. These were the thoughts running through Draco Malfoy's head as he witnessed the girl tumble and fall from a stall from behind him. He stood still for about half a minute before sense and general brain function pushed him forward toward her body. He knelt next to her, wand out ready to heal, but the reminder of who she is, _of who he is_, settled. He froze mid-air, staring at the small trickle of blood from her wound making its way to him. He stared and scrutinized the blood almost obsessively. The proverbial ton of bricks hit his head the moment he whispered "It's the same". He stood there, staring at it for almost 3 minutes, but the consequences of what just happened resurfaced.

If Potter suspected him of cursing Katie Bell without any sort of proof, what would the Chosen One say if … When Granger awoke?! He needed no more attention on himself. The damn ninja had pestered him earlier enough to realize he knew something so this would be more than enough for the black haired ass hole to return for more. He only managed to escape when he used Petrificus Totalus on the man. He dismissed the spell only a couple of hours ago.

Mind made up, Draco hoisted up the brown haired girl in his arm, holding her bridal style, used a small healing spell to stop the blood from flowing and rushed toward the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey would be able to take care of the idiot Granger.

As the night wore on, the darkness engulfed everything. Lord Voldemort could not sleep, his mind was too consumed by the ache in his chest as he felt a piece of his soul die. He paced around the so-called meeting chamber, alone, as to clear his thoughts. He wondered if the fool, the Malfoy brat, would give up or mess up any time soon, or if, perhaps, but some twisted string of faith, the boy would succeed. Voldemort doubted it, but he had been taken unaware before. He returned to his bedchamber as he saw Nagini enter before him, back from her midnight hunt. He almost smiled as he saw his most precious follower relax in her cot. He sometimes wished he too were an animal, ruled only by instinct. Life would have been far easier and less painful then, he pondered as he closed his eyes and drifted asleep.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Naruto. Also, please excuse the repeated use of book passages in the previous chapters as well as his own, but I believe them quite important for the story. Hope you enjoy the new chapter, sorry for the long wait.

Thanks again to my wonderful beta Lord Voldything394!

_**Chapter 6**_

Draco all but ran to the schools nurse, the unconscious girl still clutched in his arms. He could vaguely see the wound and he could most certainly feel the damp area surrounding it in spite of him stopping the blood flow. He was sweating in both exhaustion as well as fear. He might not be the nicest of people but he had no desire to critically injure or worse kill someone, a fact the Dark Lord was probably aware of when he assigned the boy his mission.

"Come on, Granger! Show that infuriating stubbornness now, when you need it!" he hissed in her ear as he took a turn and finally – _finally_– he saw the door leading to the infirmary. He literally burst through them and thus startled Pomfrey, but by this point he could care less if he hit Dumbledore with the door.

"Help her!" he found himself scream in spite of himself. He saw the nurse take her and examine her wounds, but he found the action too slow, a waste of time. "She hit her head! There!" he pointed the exact place the girl had crack her skull open before he could stop himself, but if Pomfrey took notice he couldn't bother to care. The moment he was pushed back however, he had to stop himself from hexing the nurse. He didn't like being pushed around, actually, he despised it.

He watched as she took Granger's head in her hands and, taking a potion from her pocket, let a few drops hit the back of the unconscious girl's neck. The wound started closing, slowly, but effectively, Granger's breathing returning to its usual, healthy rhythm. He was just about to exit when he felt the woman grasp his wrist.

"Mr Malfoy, what happened to Ms Granger? And why are either of you out at this hour? Surely the Prefect duties are long finished?" he scowled, realizing he'd been caught.

"I was at the bathroom, I know it isn't an excuse, but I had been feeling under the weather lately. As I was returning to my dorm, I heard a noise from above and went to check. Reaching the end of the stairs I saw Granger passed out and bleeding. I used a spell to stop the blood and then brought her here. Don't tell her it was me though." a credible enough explanation, he thought, quite pleased with himself. Madam Pomfrey nodded and asked no further questions, his less than normal attitude and his low grades working in his favor now. She dismissed him and he walked back to the dungeons. He ignored the whispered "What's up, Draco?" from Blaise as he set his head upon his pillow. He knew that he, as every night since the beginning of this summer, would not sleep peacefully, his mind plagued by nightmare of what was to come and what had come to pass.

* * *

Letting out a gasp, her back hits the tree bark, feeling his hands grip at her sides, slowly caressing her lips with his. Sensing an opportunity, Sasuke let his tongue dart out and, tracing her lower lip, enters her mouth. Not one to refuse a challenge, Sakura battles for dominance of the kiss, one of her hands grabbing a fistful of his hair while the other finds its way beneath his shirt. His mouth trails a path down her cheek, licking her jawline and sucking on her neck as she sighs in quiet pleasure. The hand on his back clenches and she scratches the skin, making the brunette grunt and return to kissing her already swollen lips. Breaking the kiss, Sakura makes haste in removing his shirt and pushes him to fall on the bed of cold snow. She stands above him, legs on either sides of his waist, just catching her breath. He shivers and she finally joins him.

Sasuke lifts his hips in an attempt to have her beneath him, but she sees it coming and, using one chakra infused hand, she holds him down, palm pressing on his abdomen. He stills and she lets her face draw closer. Only instead of going for his lips, her mouth connects to the juncture where his neck and shoulder meet, the palm formerly holding him trailing up and down, her nail grazing the sensitive skin just above his navel. When it reaches slightly to close to where he wants it most, he hisses and she pulls back, her lips following the path of her hand. He feels her smirk and can't help but think he's been either a horrible influence or a brilliant one.

"Sakura..." he growls as her fingers unbutton his pants, in warning. Her eyes snap up to meet his, molten green to fiery black, and she loses her advantage. He flips them over, rips her top and nuzzles her cleavage. Sakura yelps in indignation – _that's my favorite top bastard_! – but moans when he lick his way down to her bellybutton, clutching his head. One of her legs throws itself around his hips as her back arches so he can remove her bra. His mouth meets hers once more before he shifts his focus on her chest –

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" they hear someone scream and Sasuke hugs Sakura's bare upper half to his own to cover what he can of it. The pinkette in turn hides her face in his shoulder, heating up in embarrassment. The man glares at the intruder – Professor McGonagall – as the elderly woman gaps in shock and disappointment. She had expected more professionalism from the ninjas.

"Sasuke! Don't stay there! Give me your shirt!" Sakura gathers her wits and yells in the man's ear, swatting his arm. He does as told for once, and together the three make their way back towards the castle. The witch wastes no time in lecturing them for inappropriate behavior, loss of conduct and immaturity. Had Naruto been caught in this position and lectured he would have probably argued that what they did was anything but immature, but alas he was not here and they were. Head hung in shame, Sakura listens intently to the professor as she grips Sasuke's hand hard. So much so, that she almost hear bones crackling under her hold. He, however, shows no trace of embarrassment or even a sign that he is even aware of his surroundings.

"Why did you come to get us?" he suddenly speaks, interrupting the still chastising woman and startling his team mate. Sakura looks up at him and realizes he is correct in his search for answers. She reinforces his question with her own "Yes, why did you, Professor?" while letting his hand go. It feels empty, her palm, but she dwells not on the thought as McGonagall responds. They waste no more time with idle chit-chat and rush to the infirmary. They are too late as Draco Malfoy has retired for the night and Hermione is asleep. They are told to visit again in the morning.

The moment the door closes behind them, the consequences of their previous action finally fettle on them and Sakura fiddles with her hands. Sasuke is also affected by it as he stiffens, his back to her. Neither speaks for a while, both lost in thought until he faces her. She yelps at the sudden move but remains standing where she is, waiting his next move. Has his anger returned? Is he going to tell her to forget it ever happened? Does he want her to never speak of it again? Does he... regret it? She doesn't and she has way more reasons to do the exact opposite considering his behavior towards her. She's about to scream in his face, but she doesn't get the chance. He lifts his right hand and cups her cheek, his thumb caressing the soft, cold skin as he leans down. She closes her eyes at the myriad of feelings and lets his warm breath smooth over her face. He doesn't kiss her though, instead her whispers to her.

"Some things never change." her temper reveals itself once more as she is about to slap him for that asshole comment, but he traps her hands above her head. "Why didn't you let me finish Sa-ku-ra?" he says each syllable making her body shiver as his voice grows husky with each letter. "You have grown stronger." he tells her before he turns on his heel and walks to his bedroom, leaving her alone and trembling with raw emotion.

Blinking, the woman seems to regain her brain function and the meaning of his last sentence sinks in. "The bastard!" she hisses, despite the bright grin upon her face. As she drifts off to sleep that night, she is forced to acknowledge the truth of both his statements. He is right, of course, she still loves him, but she has grown powerful. She's proven this before and she will continue to do so. _You're not off the hook, Uchiha! I still owe you some hits!_

* * *

Hermione remembered nothing of that night , or at least that's what she told to Madam Pomfrey. In fact she remembered everything up until the moment she fainted, she also realized Malfoy must have carried her to the nurse as the woman refused to say a word about her savior. Regardless of this, life went on and Hermione was soon enough reminded of why she and her friends hated the blonde, also, she recalled why she'd left that night as she saw Lavender perched on Ron's arm when they'd visited the next morning. She asked them to leave, and by ask I mean she scream at them, but they did heed her warning, only Harry staying with her the two hours before she could be officially discharged.

Days passed as minutes and before long things returned to normal for the trio, meaning Harry was left to find a way to talk to both his best friends without both in the same room. Thus is how Harry found himself digging his grave by trying to talk to Hermione. She looked too fierce to argue with at that moment, so Harry dropped the subject of Ron and recounted all that he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape. When he had finished, Hermione sat in thought for a moment and then said, "Don't you think — ?"

"— he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione.

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so," Harry said grudgingly. "But this definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."

"No, I can't," she answered slowly, vaguely being reminded of a night not that long ago, of his body hunched over the sink in abandon.

"And he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said!"

"Hmm .. . did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?"

Harry frowned, trying to remember. "I'm not sure ... Snape definitely said 'your master,' and who else would that be?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?"

She stared across the room, apparently lost in thought, not even noticing Lavender tickling Ron. "How's Lupin?"

"Not great," said Harry, and he told her all about Lupin's mission among the werewolves and the difficulties he was facing. "Have you heard of this Fenrir Greyback?"

"Yes, I have!" said Hermione, sounding startled. "And so have you, Harry!"

"When, History of Magic? You know full well I never listened ..."

"No, no, not History of Magic — Malfoy threatened Borgin with him!" said Hermione. "Back in Knockturn Alley, don't you remember? He told Borgin that Greyback was an old family friend and that he'd be checking up on Borgin's progress!"

Harry gaped at her. "I forgot! But this proves Malfoy's a Death Eater, how else could he be in contact with Greyback and telling him what to do?"

"It is pretty suspicious," breathed Hermione. "Unless . . ."

"Oh, come on," said Harry in exasperation, "you can't get round this one!"

"Well . . . there is the possibility it was an empty threat."

"You're unbelievable, you are," said Harry, shaking his head. "We'll see who's right. . . . You'll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry. Oh yeah, I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well. . . ."

And the rest of the evening passed amicably with both of them abusing the Minister of Magic, for Hermione, like Ron, thought that after all the Ministry had put Harry through the previous year, they had a great deal of nerve asking him for help now.

The new term started next morning with a pleasant surprise for the sixth years: a large sign had been pinned to the common room notice boards overnight.

_APPARITION LESSONS_

_If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31st August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor._

_Please sign below if you would like to participate._

_Cost: 12 Galleons._

Harry and Ron joined the crowd that was jostling around the notice and taking it in turns to write their names at the bottom. Ron was just taking out his quill to sign after Hermione when Lavender crept up behind him, slipped her hands over his eyes, and trilled, "Guess who, Won-Won?" Harry turned to see Hermione stalking off; he caught up with her, having no wish to stay behind with Ron and Lavender, but to his surprise, Ron caught up with them only a little way beyond the portrait hole, his ears bright red and his expression disgruntled. Without a word, Hermione sped up to walk with Neville.

"So-Apparition," said Ron, his tone making it perfectly plain that Harry was not to mention what had just happened. "Should be a laugh, eh?"

"I dunno," said Harry. "Maybe it's better when you do it yourself, I didn't enjoy it much when Dumbledore took me along for the ride."

"I forgot you'd already done it... I'd better pass my test first time," said Ron, looking anxious. "Fred and George did,"

"Charlie failed, though, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but Charlie's bigger than me," Ron held his arms out from his body as though he was a gorilla, "so Fred and George didn't go on about it much... not to his face anyway..."

"When can we take the actual test?"

"Soon as we're seventeen. That's only March for me!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to Apparate in here, not in the castle..."

"Not the point, is it? Everyone would know I could Apparate if I wanted."

Ron was not the only one to be excited at the prospect of Apparition. All that day there was much talk about the forthcoming lessons; a great deal of store was set by being able to vanish and reappear at will.

"How cool will it be when we can just -" Seamus clicked his fingers to indicate disappearance. "Me cousin Fergus does it just to annoy me, you wait till I can do it back... he'll never have another peaceful moment..."

Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water that was the object of today's Charms lesson, he let out a hose-like jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on his face.

"Harry's already Apparated," Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus, after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines ("I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.") "Dum-er-someone took him. Side-Along-Apparition, you know."

"Whoa!" whispered Seamus, and he, Dean, and Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day, Harry was besieged with requests from the other sixth years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather than put off, when he told them how uncomfortable it was, and he was still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening, when he was forced to lie and say that he needed to return a book to the library, so as to escape in time for his lesson with Dumbledore.

* * *

Sasuke had refused to talk to Draco the next morning so instead Sakura tracked the kid down and prepared to somehow get him to trust her. She has yet to find out what had pissed Sasuke off the day before, but she did know it had something to do with the Malfoy boy so she was even more careful around him. She found him when he was returning from his last class for the day and pulled him aside.

Using the power given to her by Dumbledore she managed to get his house mates to leave. Once the two were alone she led him to an empty classroom and asked him to sit. The look on the boy's face reminded her powerfully of Sasuke a few years back, the quiet anger, the high walls built to protect him from others' affection. She read this in his attitude, in his eyes. She had always been a good reader of one's self, but in the last few years she had improved under Ibiki's tutelage in the Interrogation Unit of ANBU. He, being as skilled as he is in reading the enemy, taught her how to interpret a person's actions in order to know that person. She knew that the smallest details were decisive so she paid close attention to each breath Draco took, each move he made, each flicker in his eyes. Once the scrutiny achieved its purpose she finally sat before him, ready to talk.

"Draco Malfoy... I'd firstly like to ask of you to tell me what is it exactly that you did to my team mate? When he met with me yesterday he was enraged. I do not like to be subjected to others rage when it isn't directed towards me. "She saw him stiffen, his shoulders drew back and his mouth turned upwards in a smirk. Whatever he'd done, he was happy with the results. Had she not been pretending be as emotionless and strict as possible, she would have congratulated the kid for a job well done.

"Well … are you going to answer or do I have to make you. I'm not like you pansy assed wizards, I know what pain means and I know how to deliver it properly." she almost smirked herself when she saw the fear flicker in his eyes. Okay, so she chose to be the bad guy, meh, who cares. The kid will give her the answers she seeks.

"I... I Petrified him" the blonde replied at last. She nodded in understanding as she had read of this spell. Unable to pretend any longer and unwilling to stop herself, a snort escaped her mouth as she promptly burst out in pearls of laughter. The sight of Sasuke, statue like, in the middle of a corridor was just too hilarious. Had Naruto been here he would have collapsed on the floor, clutching at his belly in fits of laughter, unable to breath properly, but she had more control than that so she just laughed so hard her insides hurt before she regained her composure. _Naruto, _oh how she missed him!

She then studied Draco. He was shocked for the very least, his mouth was hanging open slightly, his eyes wide, but he was smiling softly. She smiled in response and got up. The kid was just too cute!

"Sakura Haruno. Sorry for that terrifying approach, but I really wanted to know what could anger the 'I'm-an-Uchiha-bow-down-to-me-peasants' so much. I like you, kid. You're going to be fun." she reached out her hand and he shook it, his face regaining some of its former apathy.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he went straight to the point, good.

"I know of your mission, task, whatever you call it. Dumbledore is to die at the end of this year as you were ordered to kill him. Am I correct?" he turned white immediately and she was almost sure he was going to pass out any moment now. He didn't.

"How?" his voice shook tremendously, his whole body trembled in fear. This ninjas were here to protect the school and thus the Head Master himself, if they know then he has failed and, worse, his family is dead by his doing. He didn't try to deny the accusation though, what good would it do. It was obvious they have gathered proof before coming to confront him, it would help not to lie now.

"We've seen a few things in our lives, it was not hard to detect the one who had cursed Katie Bell and Naruto. The fact that our friend suffered at the hands of this curse only fueled us further. A few days were all it took. We wanted to go to Dumbledore, but as we know, your Head of House, Professor Snape, was a Death Eater, he would be well aware of your actions so we talked to him regarding our findings." she paused, carefully observing Draco as he went from resignation to hope to betrayal to anger and finally to fear again. That's when she thought it wise to continue.

"We asked him what he knew, he refused to tell us initially, but sensing we wished no harm to his Godson, he eventually told us everything. We know of your task, about your parents, we know that you're supposed to bring the Death Eaters inside Hogwarts. We are more than aware of your position Draco, we want to help." He nodded, but refused to say anything. Sakura sighed, it was not the time for stubbornness, she had less than twenty minutes to finish this and head to Dumbledore's office.

"How is that part coming along? Have you found a way to bring them here?" _Be patient Sakura, patient!_ She told herself as he refused to answer as minutes ticked by. Finally thought, he opens his mouth.

"Yes. There is a Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement and another at Borgin and Burkes. The two can transport things between each other, problem is, I've tried to send some animals through it, they returned dead."

"So... what can you do?"

"I don't know... It's … I have to find the right spell, but I can't concentrate when Granger is bloody three feet away from me! I always feel as if she's watching my every move! She's always there! Does the bint live in the bloody library?!" he exclaimed. Sakura raises an eyebrow at the tone he uses and – what is it with this guy and Hermione? First he hates her, then he saves her life and now he finds her aggravating?! _If I didn't know any better I'd be forced to say he fancies her. I wonder if she's the same..._

"Well since I have to go, how about I come after you when I get free? I'll just wake you up and you'll have that peace and quiet you want. What do you say kid?"

"Fine as long as you never call me kid again." he deadpanned, but he was obviously relieved to see he had some help and someone to talk to. Sakura laughed and led him to his House common room. She didn't see him in though as she was slightly late. She took each turn accordingly and lightning fast, unwilling to waste another second. She entered.

The lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever. She stepped forward, coming to a stop next to the man and boy. It did not seem to have healed at all and Harry wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, what had caused such a distinctive injury, but did not ask. Dumbledore had said that he would know eventually and there was, in any case, another subject he wanted to discuss. But before Harry could say anything about Snape and Malfoy, Dumbledore spoke.

"I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?"

"Yes," said Harry. "He's not very happy with me."

_If he's anything like our Council of Elders I would hazard a guess as to why, Dumbledore, right? _But she spoke not her thoughts and simply listened.

"No," sighed Dumbledore. "He is not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on."

Harry grinned.

"He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a wonderful job.'

Dumbledore smiled.

"It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you, hoping that you would give him your support —"

"After everything Fudge did last year?" said Harry angrily. "After Umbridge ?"

Another student that said that name, the others didn't seems any more pleased with "Umbridge" either. _Curious_.

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left the office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment, we met and he demanded that I arrange a meeting with you —"

"So that's why you argued!" Harry blurted out. "It was in the Daily Prophet"

"The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally," said Dumbledore, "if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way to corner you at last."

"He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man through and through.'"

"How very rude of him." _ But from what I've seen, how very true, too._

"I told him I was."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes, the phoenix, let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry's intense embarrassment, he suddenly realized that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and he stared hastily at his own knees. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite steady.

"I am very touched, Harry."

"Scrimgeour wanted to know where you go when you're not at Hogwarts," said Harry, still looking fixedly at his knees.

"Yes, he is very nosy about that," said Dumbledore, now sounding cheerful, and Harry thought it safe to look up again. "He has even attempted to have me followed. Amusing, really. He set Dawlish to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once. I did it again with the greatest regret."

_Of course you did _Sakura scoffed.

"So they still don't know where you go?" asked Harry, hoping for more information on this intriguing subject, but Dumbledore merely smiled over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"No, they don't, and the time is not quite right for you to know either. Now, I suggest we press on, unless there's anything else— ?"

"There is, actually, sir," said Harry. "It's about Malfoy and Snape." And thus her attention is drawn back to Harry. _What about Snape and Draco?_

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, sir. I overheard them during Professor Slughorn's party . . . well, I followed them, actually… "

Dumbledore listened to Harry's story with an impassive face, much like the pinkette herself. When Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said, "Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."

"Not of great importance?" repeated Harry incredulously. "Professor, did you understand — ?"

"Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me," said Dumbledore, a little sharply. "I think you might even consider the possibility that I understood more than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that causes me disquiet."

_It would surprise me if it did. You know and have planned everything down, it would truly take an invisible person doing something so you don't know. _Fine, so she might be a bit bitter towards the man, can you blame her? The first thing she finds out is that he plans on someday getting this boy killed!

Harry sat in seething silence, glaring at Dumbledore. What was going on? Did this mean that Dumbledore had indeed ordered Snape to find out what Malfoy was doing, in which case he had already heard everything Harry had just told him from Snape? Or was he really worried by what he had heard, but pretending not to be?

"So, sir," said Harry, in what he hoped was a polite, calm voice, "you definitely still trust — ?"

"I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already," said Dumbledore, but he did not sound very tolerant anymore. "My answer has not changed."

"I should think not," said a snide voice. Phineas Nigellus was evidently only pretending to be asleep. Dumbledore ignored him.

_Ah! Angry Professor? Has Snape not been completely honest? _ Inner Sakura had an overactive mouth tonight it seemed.

"And now, Harry, I must insist that we press on. I have more important things to discuss with you two this evening."

Harry sat there feeling mutinous. How would it be if he refused to permit the change of subject, if he insisted upon arguing the case against Malfoy? As though he had read Harry's mind, Dumbledore shook his head.

"Ah, Harry, how often this happens, even between the best of friends! Each of us believes that what he has to say is much more important than anything the other might have to contribute!"

"I don't think what you've got to say is unimportant, sir," said Harry stiffly.

"Well, you are quite right, because it is not," said Dumbledore briskly. "I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected."

Harry did not say anything to this; he still felt angry at the reception his confidences had received, but could not see what was to be gained by arguing further.

"So," said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, "we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued thievery when he arrived at school.

"Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his secondhand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head," continued Dumbledore, waving his blackened hand toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. "How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know — perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance.

"However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed police, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him."

"Didn't you tell them, sir, what he'd been like when you met him at the orphanage?" asked Harry.

"No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance."

Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at Harry, who had opened his mouth to speak. Here, again, was Dumbledore's tendency to trust people in spite of overwhelming evidence that they did not deserve it! But then Harry remembered something. . .

"But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you? He told me . . . the Riddle who came out of that diary said, 'Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.'"

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy," said Dumbledore. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.

"Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents, to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, placing his withered hand on the Pensieve. "Few who knew him then aren't prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.

"Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family — the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death.

"All he had to go upon was the single name 'Marvolo,' which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking research, through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, Sakura if you will stand ..." :

Dumbledore rose, and Harry saw that he was again holding a small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory. Sakura rose and stood beside the boy, but away from the man, her mind still on the young Draco Malfoy and his impossible task ahead.


End file.
